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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393999">stitch your heart upon the blossom of mine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/loseyoutoloveme/pseuds/loseyoutoloveme'>loseyoutoloveme</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>one sunny hill, meant for two [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Politics, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Fate, Flowers, Friends to Lovers, Sacrifice, Sewing, Slow Burn, Strategy &amp; Tactics, Thriller, Unrequited Love, but it's not really politics in the way u think so u may as well check it out! it's ~different, slow slow slow slooooow burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:47:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>435,184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/loseyoutoloveme/pseuds/loseyoutoloveme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark's father fixes you with a pensive look and gently says,  “I think that you should be proud of where you’re from, even if it's from Tactix. But I’m not like a lot of people here in Neozone. Here, there are many who will mistreat you when they find out you’re from Elyxion, regardless of whether you consider yourself a part of it or not.”</p><p>There is too much bad blood staining the history of your nation now. You can't tell if you're contaminated in the eyes of the young men you've met, and you're not sure why that bothers you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Reader, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Reader, Mark Lee (NCT)/Reader, Nakamoto Yuta/Reader, Suh Youngho | Johnny/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>one sunny hill, meant for two [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>650</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>196</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. viola sororia sororia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>WELCOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</p><p>thank u for reading this precious fic to me. it's an idea i've been brewing for a long time, so i'm excited to finally get it written down. i'm about 2/3 of the way done with it and it's already like 150k so this is going to be gigantic lol. the four relationships tagged aren't necessarily the end all be all romantically, but they play prominent roles in the narrative's development! i've had a lot of fun writing this so i hope you come on this ride with me! xo</p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong>-PART ONE-</strong>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">In the center of your stare, the parallel lines of the metal train tracks sizzle in the oppressive heat.</p><p class="p1">You’ve been on this platform for god knows how long, you’re not sure because your crusty phone has been dead for some time now. You have free reign to walk right off into the unfamiliar streets, but it’s as if your legs are cemented right into where you’re standing. You can’t even get your fingers to unclench from around the one bag you have. Stumbling out of the whirlwind of chaos the past twenty four hours and into this idyllic, calm city, is more than enough to set off a spiking ache in your head. </p><p class="p1">“Yo!” There’s a cheerful cry from behind you where the stairs are, and another, “Yo, dude!”</p><p class="p1">You twist your head to pinpoint the source of the noise and are greeted by a shock of pink hair, the bright hue sat upon the head of a confused looking, yet handsome young man. He must be your age, all lanky limbs and huge eyes, in a very neatly pressed polo and khaki shorts combination.</p><p class="p1">“Whoa, not a dude,” he says as his neck snaps back in surprise. “Sorry, I think I’m looking for someone else.”</p><p class="p1">You give him a tight-lipped smile, choosing to go along with his assumption that he’d made a mistake because surely he’s not the one you were supposed to meet here. They wouldn’t have sent you here to be deposited into the hands of some kid.</p><p class="p1">But it’s not only him, here’s a very stately older man strolling up the staircase, in a matching outfit to the teen’s beside him. He lowers his voice, “Mark Lee, be polite to our guest, please.”</p><p class="p1">The kid, Mark, goes pale in a very funny one two punch of confusion and realization, “Wait, that’s? I thought it was a guy!”</p><p class="p1">“I said I wasn’t sure who it was going to be,” the man gently chides who you assume is his son. “Only that their last name was y/l/n.”</p><p class="p1">y/l/n. He must be the one you were supposed to meet, he already knows your surname.</p><p class="p1">“I guess I thought she was a guy,” Mark mutters, then shakes a hand your way, “Sorry! Didn’t mean to assume you were, you know, a dude.”</p><p class="p1">You find your tongue, finally managing to get out your quiet first words, “It’s okay.”</p><p class="p1">The father smiles at you and inclines his head, “Welcome to Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">You know what you’re supposed to do, to incline your head in return and express your gratitude with a <em>Thank you. </em>But you’re creased through with tension like a discarded newspaper, too unsure and too tentative to continue on in this conversation without some guidance.</p><p class="p1">He introduces himself, reaching out to shake your hand, “My name is Michael Lee.”</p><p class="p1">Something about the name seems wildly familiar to you, and you take a closer look at him. He looks almost exactly like his son, friendly and genial, but he doesn’t have a commonplace face, he is far too dignified to be a regular citizen.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, I know you, you were recently selected as the Vice Premier,” you gasp. You recognize him as the former Regent from Neozone, from the many broadcasts that had been put on display over the past month. That makes this whole situation even more bizarre, “Why are you here to greet me?”</p><p class="p1">He is far too high-profile to be meeting little old you at the train station.</p><p class="p1">“I was the one your parents were in contact with,” the Vice Premier divulges, and you have to put a free hand on the railing to catch yourself.</p><p class="p1">“They what?” You whisper, dumbfounded beyond belief at that connection. “They didn’t say anything, I got home and they were just... gone.”</p><p class="p1">You suppose ninety percent of your tension is borne out of returning home in the middle of the afternoon only to find it completely abandoned. You figured the blur of your eyes due to tears would be permanent after finding your parents’ room emptied, their suitcases nowhere to be found, your father’s copy of Anna Karenina gone from its place by the TV.</p><p class="p1">A raw scream had ripped through your throat as you prepared to run back to town center, to beg the guards there to investigate their disappearance, but you’d been rooted to the ground by your discovery. The faded sheet of paper, printed with a time, a barcode, and a quickly scrawled out message. <em>Get on the train, they’ll meet you at the last stop. Love you. </em></p><p class="p1">The other ten percent, the ten percent of tension you’d let run through you during the trip here, is solely due to your total lack of answers.</p><p class="p1">You flinch as a warm hand is placed on your shoulder, but don’t step away fully. “The pending ascension has brought about a lot of instability to the nation. Things in your area were getting too unsafe, they wanted you to have a place to live worry-free.”</p><p class="p1">“No, it wasn’t,” you retort, because <em>it wasn’t. </em>You lived in the middle of the forest, far away from the political unrest that plagued the nation. You had to walk thirty minutes to reach the next closest house, a route you’d walked freely since childhood. “Even after the announcement, I went into town every day from my house just fine. If it’s so unsafe why did they not ask to come along?”</p><p class="p1">That’s the answer you need the most, why? Why did they do this?</p><p class="p1">VP Lee shakes his head, “I can’t say, they only reached out on your behalf.”</p><p class="p1">“But why—,”</p><p class="p1">“Hi, hi, hi!” A very enthused warble penetrates the serious discussion, and you glance down to see a third person in the same polo and khakis combination, this time in a boy’s size.</p><p class="p1">You can’t help the tiny smile that crosses your face at the sight of his windswept black hair. “Oh. Hi.”</p><p class="p1">He passes off a bunch of freshly picked purple flowers into your hand. “These are for you!”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">The man waves his son over, ruffling his hair as he introduces him to you, “This is Jeno, my youngest.”</p><p class="p1">“Hi, Jeno,” you offer your fingers up to him, even though he’s just a kid, and his small hand shakes yours with abject enthusiasm.</p><p class="p1">“And this is my oldest son, Mark.”</p><p class="p1">“Nice to meet you du—,” Mark sticks his hand out, catching himself when he almost addresses you with the improper nickname.</p><p class="p1">He is already unlike anyone you’ve ever met, you feel your nose crinkle with fondness as you also shake his hand, “Y/n. But you can call me dude, no worries.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s just the three of us,” Mr. Lee swings a cheerful arm around his older son’s shoulders, squeezing both his children in closely and teasing, “We’re a normal, loving family, right kiddos?”</p><p class="p1">“Daaaaaad,” Mark groans, burying his embarrassed face in his hand, eliciting a giggle from you.</p><p class="p1">The vice premier tucks his chin into the top of Mark’s head, exaggerating the hug even further, and addresses you over his son, “Of course, you can ask me all the questions you want about why you’re here, what’s happened, I’ll try to answer as much as I can. But maybe we should get out of this awful heat? You look uncomfortable.”</p><p class="p1">Him voicing it out loud triggers your acute awareness of how grossly your shirt is sticking to your back, the incessant beads of sweat that have been rolling down your temple. You’d grown up in a lush, shade-covered oasis, nothing like here, with the confident sun glinting off the fancy metal buildings.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, it wasn’t that hot at home,” you concede, as Mark takes the bag from your hand and points to the street. </p><p class="p1">“Great, we live right up here, a five minute walk and it’ll be all over.”</p><p class="p1">You nod, following behind the three guys as they walk off the platform, cutting through the open lot in front of the train station to begin the trek home. This is quite the change of pace for you, the bustling Main Street, having more than one car at a time on the road, how nicely everyone you pass seems to be dressed.</p><p class="p1">You’d assumed cities of this magnitude would have that kind of grimy odor, the odor of sustaining thousands of lives, of grinding success. But that’s not what you pick up when the August breeze hits you, it’s dusted with sweetness, with a tiny, intoxicating note of something you can’t place.</p><p class="p1">You take another deep inhale, then you can’t stop the curiosity, “What is that smell?”</p><p class="p1">Mark grins. “You like it?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah.”</p><p class="p1">“Neozone is known for our flower fields,” he nods his head to your left. “We’re surrounded on three sides by them, flowers are kind of our thing.”</p><p class="p1">You look over to where he’d gestured and finally see it, the first glimpse of green since you’d emerged from the forest on the train, scattered through with yellows and pinks that are visible even from here. There’s a patch of land near the northern city border covered in white flowers to the point where it looks like fresh snowfall, and the area by the sparkling river is a beautiful field of blue flowers, too.</p><p class="p1">Jeno, holding onto his dad’s hand as you cross the street, points at the purple blooms still clutched in your fist, “Those are from the field behind our house!”</p><p class="p1">“I think I knew that you guys were known for flowers,” you murmur, recalling the pressed and dried buds that hung all over your house, your side garden, the yellowed paper in the bottom of your bag. “I have this envelope.”</p><p class="p1">Mark stops in the middle of the sidewalk, eyebrows furrowed, “Wait, are you from here?”</p><p class="p1">You do the same, nearly colliding right into him. This wasn’t ever a conversation you’d had with your parents, you feel naive for believing this long that you’d sprouted up in your town without considering your original roots. You’d never had a reason to check your health records either, to see the evidence of your bloodline.“I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">“Everybody who’s from here gets a seed packet when they’re born, y/n,” Mr. Lee carefully explains, with more tact than his son. “If you have one, that means someone in your family must’ve been a citizen.”</p><p class="p1">You do have one, with one tiny black seed inside.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know,” you mutter, trying to extrapolate how far you’d traveled on the train based on where you knew the borders of Neozone were. “I don’t know if my town was within your borders. I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">Great, now you’re throwing an identity crisis on top of it all. You’re hoping this can be rewound to the day before, and you can go on living in ignorant bliss.</p><p class="p1">“That’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he reassures you. “You’ll figure it out. By the way, welcome to our house.”</p><p class="p1">He holds out his arms, and you look up to see his home. But home is absolutely not the right word. This is a behemoth.</p><p class="p1">“What, no, no,” you gasp. “I, I can’t live here.”</p><p class="p1">This is the closest thing to a modern day castle you’ve seen, a towering structure of elegant grey brick, built through with columns of marble and glistening steel. It’s hyperbolic, but there must be a hundred rooms in there, it must be filled to the brim with antiques and artifacts and fancy furniture. It’s just a building, it shouldn’t do this to you, but you feel your throat close with nerves, the level of anxious sweat skyrocketing.</p><p class="p1">You grab at his arm with a hint of desperation, “Vice Premier, this is too fancy, I don’t know why you’re bringing me here, even if it is a favor to my parents. I can live in an, an apartment or something, I lived in a tiny house, this is too big.”</p><p class="p1">He holds both your shoulders in an effort to calm you down. “Y/n, it’s okay, there should be more than enough space for you.”</p><p class="p1">“No, it’s too much, it’s too much,” you shake your head again and again, the manifestation of your parents’ sudden decision leering at you from the sparkling candelabra holders of the entryway. You’d kept it together well enough until now. You weren’t supposed to live this life, you were supposed to quietly live with your mom and dad, only venturing off on your own when you felt like you were ready to.</p><p class="p1">“We can find another place for you,” Mark interrupts your frenzied internal monologue, shooting a pointed look at his father, “It’s no problem, right Dad?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, Dad!” Jeno enters the foray to back his big brother. “Another place!”</p><p class="p1">You don’t need him to extend his arm of charity any further, “If you can like, point me to the nearest apartment complex, I’ll get a place.”</p><p class="p1">“I will not be having you live in an apartment,” VP Lee takes the same tone with you that he does with his kids. “And how are you going to do that, do you have credit or savings?" He’s got a point, beyond your meager belongings and the few dollars in your wallet, you don’t have the means to purchase a place here. But you really can’t live here, you can’t.</p><p class="p1">“Come on,” Mark loops his arm through yours, brushing his shoulder against yours in comfort. “We can take you around so you can see the city, find a house you like.”</p><p class="p1">“Good idea, Mark. I’ll get the car.” The VP nods over his shoulder, in the direction of a tall oak tree, and half a dozen concealed guards come folding out of the shadows. You hadn’t even noticed they were trailing you. Obviously they’re attuned to their boss’s needs, because a silver Porsche is on the street before you in a few seconds, two other black cars following behind it. See? This is not your life.</p><p class="p1">Once you’re in the back seat of the car, sandwiching Jeno in the middle, Mark navigates for his father, flipping through articles on his phone, “Oooh, oooh, maybe we can start by Heaven’s Highway, John said those new houses have finally finished. Or Simon’s Street! There are some nice ones there.”</p><p class="p1">“What do you think, y/n?” VP Lee asks as he peers at you through the rear view mirror. “You want to be closer to town center or further out by the river?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not sure,” you answer, before something catches your eye out the window. “Wait, excuse me, um. What are those?”</p><p class="p1">In the distance, sitting prettily on top of a lush hill of green grass, are two houses.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, those? Yeah, we can check out those.”</p><p class="p1">“Nooooo!” Jeno groans loudly. “That’s the steep hill!”</p><p class="p1">“There’s only two houses up there but nobody’s bought them yet because of the… journey it takes to get up here,” Mark’s father puts it diplomatically, but obliges and take a left turn at the next light to start heading in that direction. “But we can definitely take a look.”</p><p class="p1">You’re entranced now, knowing this is your mind’s attempt at filling the void. It’s not quite the exact copy, there aren’t enough trees, and the hill is much bigger. But it looks as wonderfully isolating as your old place, small enough for just you, and the sun’s rays hit the roof in almost the same way. You don’t even have a chance to take in the rest of the town, focused as you are at the twin houses that are getting bigger and bigger, the microscopic white dots that are materializing, sprinkled across the expanse of green in charming contrast.</p><p class="p1">The Porsche meanders its way up the winding roadway, and the Vice Premier puts the car in park outside a towering gate that is already opened. Beyond the metal grate is an expansive plaza, soaked through with sunlight, and a marble fountain bubbling with clear water.</p><p class="p1">You get out of the car, and it already feels like the heat has lessened its grip on you. The anxiety, too.</p><p class="p1">There’s a beige BMW parked up ahead, and a tall man in glasses is leaning up against it, skimming through some papers. You hang behind Mark and Jeno as their father goes up to greet the man, “Oh good, Changmin, you’re here already.”</p><p class="p1">“Reg—, I mean, Vice Premier Lee,” the man in glasses bows deeply to your companion. “You were looking for me?”</p><p class="p1">“Sorry it’s such short notice, but would you be willing to show us around either of these houses?”</p><p class="p1">“Well, my client is thinking about closing on that one,” he points over to the house on your right, then does the same to the house on your left, “but this one we can definitely check out. Sorry, let me take this call.”</p><p class="p1">As Changmin answers his phone, Mr. Lee steps back and whispers in conspiracy to you, “Let’s look at both, I think you can get to the blueberry fields through the other house. If you’re interested in that place, I’ll fight the client for you.”</p><p class="p1">“Fight me for who?”</p><p class="p1">At the sound of a silvery voice dropping into the conversation, you stand on your tiptoes to peek over the Vice Premier’s shoulder and see who it is.</p><p class="p1">But Mark beats you to the punch, letting out an ecstatic, “Jae!,” and catapulting himself into the stranger’s arms.</p><p class="p1">“Marco!” The two of them sound pleased as punch to be reunited, joyous laughter echoing out across the plaza, and it’s probably not far off base to assume they’re very close.</p><p class="p1">“JaeJae, don’t forget me!” Jeno takes off after his brother, scrambling up into the mystery man’s arms.</p><p class="p1">“I couldn’t forget you, Nono!”</p><p class="p1">Even the head of the family takes his turn hugging the man you haven’t caught a real glimpse of yet, wrapping him and his sons up into a big bear hug, “It’s good to see you, kid. I thought with your vacations and stuff, you wouldn’t be coming back at all before school.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m here just for a few days. The market looks great so I figured I’d try to snag a house when Dad was out of town. Don’t tell him.”</p><p class="p1">“Psst, psst!” Jeno tugs at the hem of the man’s white tee.</p><p class="p1">Even though this person is taller than Mark, taller even than his father, he still bends down to chat with the kid, “What’s up, lil man?”</p><p class="p1">“We met someone at the train today! Look!”</p><p class="p1">Dumbly, you don’t realize Jeno’s pointed right at you, until the stranger twists his head in his crouched position. He glances up to where you’re standing, his amber eyes sparkling merrily in the sun, then promptly loses his balance, a large hand flying out to steady himself against the ground.</p><p class="p1">It’s like all of your senses have been dulled to the point that you’re watching everything in hazy slow motion, you’re treated to the way he brings himself up to his full height, unfailingly and intimidatingly handsome even in his athletic clothes, his twin dimples catching with his smile. You’re not entirely sure you’re not staring like an idiot.</p><p class="p1">“Hi.”</p><p class="p1">“Hello.”</p><p class="p1">“Sorry about that,” Changmin’s voice bombards your ear, bringing your senses back into sharp clarity. “Shall we check it out? I have another appointment in fifteen minutes.”</p><p class="p1">“Gotta go, kid,” Mark’s father slaps the dimpled young man on the shoulder, before turning and heading back up the path.</p><p class="p1">You want to get out of there before you make a fool of yourself, so you run and push to be the first one behind Changmin as he walks up the stairs and unlocks the front door. When you see the interior, you know for sure you’re staring like an idiot. At least you don’t feel <em>that</em> dumb, because Mark and Jeno are gaping too. You’d thought this place was like your old home from how understated it seemed from the outside, but that must’ve been an intended deception. Inside is a dazzling display of architecture, modern and pristine, all white with black and gold accents and an extraordinarily high lofted ceiling.</p><p class="p1">“Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. Most of the interior, plus appliances, has been updated in the past year,” Changmin lists out the features from his notebook.</p><p class="p1">You see it all, the shiny dishwasher and gigantic fridge, a sunken pit made up entirely of couch cushions, a large TV, a dining table that could fit twelve people, though you don’t even know that many. Changmin continues on, “It comes fully furnished, which is a huge plus, but I’d say the winning point is the spectacular view of the river. It’s only slightly marred by that patch of weeds.”</p><p class="p1">He’s right. The far wall is made from head to toe glass, allowing rivulets of golden light to make their way through, and the bubbling blue azure of the river below is a majestic sight. You’re not even mad about the so called weeds, because the tiny white flowers dotting through the grass are the cheeriest part of it all. They remind you of the mass of flowers that had grown on the sunny right side of your old home.</p><p class="p1">You’ve never been in a place like this, that’s extraordinarily opulent but feels like it was made just for you.</p><p class="p1">“Wow,” you breathe out, running up the window and getting as close to it as you can without smushing your face into it. “I can’t believe it.”</p><p class="p1">“Great, I’ll take it,” the VP declares, clapping his hands once together in satisfaction.</p><p class="p1">“No, what?” You whirl around in shock. “You can’t… buy this house for me.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s an investment in your future. It’s of no consequence to me.”</p><p class="p1">“Mr. Lee, sir, no.” You have to protest. This place is too nice, too expensive, you could save every penny for the rest of your life and never have enough money to pay for this, to pay him back. He can’t just do so without a care within the first few hours of meeting you.</p><p class="p1">“Give me the papers, Changmin,” he demands, exercising his authority with one extending thrust of his hand. There’s nothing you can do but sit back and watch him dash off his signature on a stack of papers and shake hands with the real estate agent.</p><p class="p1">He passes the signed lease off to you. “Congratulations, y/n, it’s all yours.”</p><p class="p1">This is yours. This beautiful house on this hill is yours.</p><p class="p1">Your voice comes out totally shaky, “Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">“Marky. Marky!” Jeno hoots, trying to get his sibling’s attention. Once he does, all of you in the room looking at him, he grumbles, “My legs are going to get sooooooo tired coming up here.”</p><p class="p1">“I know bud,” Mark smiles knowingly. “Me too.” That is a warm lick of flame in your chest, that he wants to continue coming up here to see you. Is this what it means to have a friend? Besides your parents, you’d really never had one before.</p><p class="p1">“At least stay with us this weekend. We can get you properly moved in after you’ve rested,” the Vice Premier gently suggests after Changmin gives you some time alone.</p><p class="p1">You would’ve said yes out of obligation before, because he’s just bought seventeen year old you a house — a house! — and you want to be grateful to him.But now you say yes out of pure self-interest, because you want to see what it would be like to share a dinner table with them.</p><p class="p1">You end up falling asleep before dinner, exhausted by the events of the day. Soothed to sleep by the soft lull of the air conditioning, something you’ve never had before, your dreams are filled with the smiling face of a young man, something else you’ve never had before.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yo, dude."</p><p class="p1">You glance up from your dog-eared page of 1984, and immediately burst out into laughter. Mark looks down at his yellow and black striped tee, and back up to you, “What?”</p><p class="p1">You have to take a few seconds to control your mirth, because you can’t quite get the words fully out, “I’m sorry for laughing. You look like a bee.”</p><p class="p1">Seriously, his torso looks like a bee that’s about to gracefully land on the pink flower that is his hair. You’re fairly confident he hasn’t looked in the mirror yet today, to see how awfully it all clashes.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, well, well,” Mark searches for a retort to sling back. “You look like a bumble!”</p><p class="p1">“A bumble?” You let out another peal of merriment, this time having to wipe away a tear. “What does that mean?!”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know, it’s what came to mind!” He exclaims. “Don’t judge me!” You attempt to taper off your laughter as he leans against the doorframe of the random guest bedroom you’d chosen and carefully asks, “Are you good, like chillin’ and everything?”</p><p class="p1">Whoosh, there’s the singe of that friendly fire in your chest at his considerate question. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”</p><p class="p1">“Um, a bunch of people are coming over in a bit to hang before we go.”</p><p class="p1">“Go where?”</p><p class="p1">“We’re going to have to go to Pandora for the ascension ceremony at the end of the week. It’s this big hoopla, I’ll have to miss the first day of school,” he’s doing his best to be nonchalant about it, you can tell. He doesn’t have to, you’re sure it’s incredibly exciting to be the son of the second most powerful man in the country. “Anyways, it’s the last time we’ll all be together for the summer so we’re going to have a kickback for a few hours before dinner.”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, I see.”</p><p class="p1">He rubs at the back of his neck, suddenly awkward, and makes his offer, “Anyways, you’re welcome to come, if you want. Meet my friends or whatever.”</p><p class="p1">“Mark, Mark!” Someone comes barreling into the room, calling for your acquaintance. “Your dad’s—, oh.”</p><p class="p1">Your book nearly slips out of your grasp at the stunning new entry into the room. The long, silver hair is nothing short of a glistening crown to top off the chiseled beauty of this man, body all lean, hard muscle. If Mark gives off a boyish charm, this guy is a dizzying combination of poise and mischief, corner of his lip quirking up in a smile when he sees you there on the bed, not at all hiding your gawk.</p><p class="p1">The intense weight of his pretty stare forces you to say something first, a meek, “Hello.”</p><p class="p1">“Hi,” that one word is already loaded with flirtation, but he doesn’t linger, instead turning to Mark. “Your dad’s looking for you.”</p><p class="p1">“Shit,” Mark blanches. He starts to head out of the room with the princely interloper, calling over his shoulder, “People will be by around three, if you’re interested!”</p><p class="p1">When one Lee son goes, the other arrives, because there Jeno is, in the exact same spot Mark was just standing in. “Hi!”</p><p class="p1">“Hi!”</p><p class="p1">“Can I come in?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, of course,” you oblige, patting the squishy mattress spot beside you. “Do you want to sit up here?”</p><p class="p1">He strides confidently into your room, big man of the place, but has to jump a little to seat himself on the high raise of your bed. You have no idea what to talk to a kid his age about, but he beats you to the punch, “Are you my new sister?”</p><p class="p1">You cough in surprise at his totally blatant line of questioning, “I don’t know. I do know that your dad was nice enough to help me out.”</p><p class="p1">“Where are your mom and dad, then?”</p><p class="p1">Of course it’s this kid’s innocent question that sets off another round of panic in you. This luxury, the soft mattress and the cool air and your new <em>home</em>, all of it has been nothing more than a weak bandaid across your soul. You still don’t have those answers you’re searching for, answers for yourself or for Jeno.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know that, either,” you answer honestly, because you see no point in lying to this child.</p><p class="p1">He huffs, “You don’t know anything!”</p><p class="p1">You poke at his arm, not even irked at his insult. “I do know that you are the cutest little kid I’ve ever seen.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not little! I’m eleven!”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, you’re the cutest young man I’ve ever seen,” you revise your statement, and he is clearly pleased, puffing out his chest like you’d called him the Vice Premier.</p><p class="p1">“Do you like baseball?” He asks next, not holding anything back in his interrogation of you.</p><p class="p1">You nod. “I watched a little, mostly with my dad.” In fact, whenever the shoddy TV you’d had wasn’t turned to the news, it was on the sports channel.</p><p class="p1">“Pandora Chinchillas or Neozone Bats?”</p><p class="p1">How can this eleven year old’s narrowed eyes make you nervous? You think to the worn jersey that had been in the back of your dad’s half of the closet, and reply, “Neozone Bats, of course.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, it’s official, we’re keeping you,” Jeno’s little arms go around you in a hug that prickles at you with pure kindness, before he has another question, “Are you going to the party? Dad says I’m not allowed.”</p><p class="p1">It’s your turn to ask him, “I don’t know. Should I?”</p><p class="p1">“Um, yes? Marky has <em>the</em> coolest friends, I wish I was old enough that they were my friends,” he huffs, moving his arms to cross them over his chest. You’d been prepared to stay in the room and read your book, but if he’s so convinced you should go to this get-together, maybe you should.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, does he now?”</p><p class="p1">“JaeJae is Mark’s best friend, he’s the Regent’s son, Johnny is his buddy, and Yuyu is Marky’s buddy,” Jeno lists each of Mark’s friends out in his own childlike description, and then he prods at you, “Those are who you have to know. You should say it.”</p><p class="p1">You have no option but to parrot back the information he’s given you, “JaeJae is the…”</p><p class="p1">He takes over as your mind forgets the first detail, “Regent’s son.”</p><p class="p1">“Regent’s son, right,” you continue on, trying your best to remember what he’d just said. “Johnny is his buddy, and Yuyu is Mark’s buddy.” Half these names and titles sound ridiculously made up, even for a kid, and you wonder out loud, “Jeno, are you sure that these are real people and not cartoon characters?”</p><p class="p1">“They’re real. Dad says I’m too young to have a buddy.” You can tell he’s eleven going on seventeen, with the way he takes it all so seriously. “But let’s go, I’ll prove it to you. Come on.”</p><p class="p1">Tugging you up with strength a kid should not have, Jeno brings you along, the two of you walking hand and hand through the extravagant hallway. It’s lined by vases etched with the family’s insignia — an eagle with a tulip in its beak — and stuffed to the brim with said flower. Their fragrant scent is all you can take in, the corridor stretching on and on and on.</p><p class="p1">“This place really is huge, you grew up here?” You marvel at the expanse of blue and white tiles that form the path out into the gardens.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, we’re lucky, though. I don’t think a lot of kids have houses this big.” You’re saddled with a bushel of affection for him, for this funny little kid who is simultaneously cheeky and worldly all at once</p><p class="p1">“Jeno Lee!” A stern exclamation comes from behind you. “What did I say to you!”</p><p class="p1">“Uh oh,” you catch Jeno’s whisper of dismay, before he composes his face and turns around, putting on the show of his life. “Dad!”</p><p class="p1">You’re still considered an outsider at this point, but you feel compelled to lie on his behalf, “Sorry, sir, I asked him to show me where the party was.”</p><p class="p1">Mr. Lee tries excessively hard not to grin, but one cracks through, “Don’t be fooled by my clever son. The kids should be that way, by the garden.”</p><p class="p1">He wags his fingers to call Jeno over, and the kid takes the chance to pull you in and whisper into your ear, “Thanks for not tattling.”</p><p class="p1">You wink at him, then ruffle his bangs. “Anytime.”</p><p class="p1">You take a step backwards, to continue watching as he shuffles remorsefully up to his dad and hugs him around the waist in preemptive apology. You take another step back, and another, and another, then <em>bam</em>, you collide right into a sturdy frame.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, I’m so sorry, I—,” you turn around to apologize for your carelessness when you literally choke on your words.</p><p class="p1">Whatever the hell is in the Neozone water surely hadn’t been in the water back home. This is the second day you’ve been here, and you’re already four for four with ridiculously beautiful men in your proximity. This one is the tallest yet, perfectly coiffed auburn hair an alluring halo on his head, his blatant shirtlessness overpowering to the point where you have to turn your head in order for the vessels of your nose not to erupt.</p><p class="p1">“Hey? Hi? Hello?” He waves a hand in proximity of your line of sight, but you can’t look, no.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, you’re hot, and I am—,” you accidentally stutter out before you catch yourself. “Whoa, okay. Sorry.”</p><p class="p1">His tongue darts out to wet his lips, unable to keep the smirk off his face. He leans against the nearest wall, leaning his head close in to yours, “I’m hot? You’re hot. You want to go out sometime?”</p><p class="p1">As if a start gun’s gone off, your heart begins to race with an intensity you’ve never felt before, hoping you’ll be able to play off your deep blush as a burgeoning sunburn.</p><p class="p1">“Control yourself, John. I swear, it doesn’t matter if the girls are in Pandora or here—,” a recognizable, silvery voice emanates from around the corner, that alloys into pure gold when it comes upon you. “Hey.”</p><p class="p1">It’s the boy who’d bought the other house on the hill, the one with curly, honey blonde hair and deep dimples.</p><p class="p1">“Hi.”</p><p class="p1">The redhead looks between the two of you, curious, “You know each other?”</p><p class="p1">“We met yesterday. Well, kind of,” his friend clarifies, before extending a hand towards you. “I’m Jaehyun Jung.”</p><p class="p1">The first syllable of his name does all it can to mask your intrusive thoughts about his hand over yours, and you nod in recognition, “The Regent’s son.” When he glances up, surprised you know that fact about him, you explain yourself, “Jeno took the liberty of filling me in, which means that you’re John, who is your…?”</p><p class="p1">“Companion, escort, bodyguard, extraordinarily hot friend, whatever you want to call it,” John preens, before slapping Jaehyun across the back with a teasing, “We take fuckboy security quite seriously here.”</p><p class="p1">“John,” Jaehyun hisses in exasperation.</p><p class="p1">Mark appears out of nowhere, snatching up Jaehyun and John simultaneously and pulling them out of the hallway to the festivities. “There you are, come onnnnn! We’re about to lose the batting title! Hi y/n, bye y/n!”</p><p class="p1">As you watch them go, one of the baby pink tulips from the nearest vase is being handed to you. You take it from the silver-haired man from earlier, whose voice is as pretty as he is when he apologizes, “Sorry about earlier, I didn’t meant to stare. It’s not that often we get someone new in the city.” Even his laugh is comely and sheepish, “I also somehow thought you were going to be a guy?”</p><p class="p1">Mark had probably spread his assumption throughout his whole friend group, but it’s pretty funny. “No problem.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m Yuta,” he introduces himself, elegant fingers taking yours as he bows his head over your hand. “Lovely to meet you.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, not a dude,” you return, in a less than ladylike manner. “Nice to meet you too.”</p><p class="p1">He offers you his elbow, and you tentatively place your fingers in the space there as he suggests, “You want to check out the party? M got the VP to set up the batting cage for today.”</p><p class="p1">“Sure.” You’re already here, you’ve probably met everyone he’s invited over so it can’t be too bad.</p><p class="p1">Holy shit, y/n, way to jump the gun.</p><p class="p1">The moment you step out onto the bustling patio, you realize you’d been so, so wrong to assume this would be a laid back affair. Mark and his friends are over by the makeshift batting cage, swinging away at balls with all their might, surrounding by a giggling group of girls. Beyond that, there are dozens of people littered over the lawn, talking and eating and laughing.</p><p class="p1">You’ve never seen this many people gathered together in your life, beyond the political rallies you’ve seen on TV. But that was TV, that was in a scenario where every head couldn’t turn on a swivel to look your way, where you couldn’t hear the hushed whispers that erupt when they don’t recognize you. If you wanted to come to this, you should’ve planned a less conspicuous entrance than emerging out of the glass egress on the arm of an ice prince.</p><p class="p1">“Why, what,” you mumble, overwhelmed by the attention. “Why is everyone looking?”</p><p class="p1">“I said it,” Yuta whispers back. “It’s not that often we get someone new in the city.”</p><p class="p1">The anxiety you thought you’d banished comes roaring back into you, your fingers slipping from his arm, voice muted as you step back, “Right, I’m gonna—, go—,”</p><p class="p1">You turn and literally run out of there, go tearing back down the hallway you’d come from in an attempt to avoid an encounter with the nosy strangers. You live here now, you’re going to have to come face to face with them at some point, but you’d like to do it on your terms, not being thrown into the lion’s den like this.</p><p class="p1">“Did you get lost trying to find the gardens?”</p><p class="p1">You yelp in surprise at the sudden question, turning to see the Vice Premier there, staring at you curiously. You shakily place Yuta’s gift tulip back in the vessel of water before running a hand through your braided hair, “That was just, so much.”</p><p class="p1">“They’re really a lot sometimes, I don’t blame you. I can take you back to your room, or we can sit in my office and talk.” He gestures through the open doors, to the richly warm wood-lined interior of his personal space.</p><p class="p1">“Talking is okay, sir,” you accept, still a bit hesitant, even as you walk inside to see nothing but shelves and shelves of books and his desk.</p><p class="p1">“Please, just call me Michael. Or Mike,” he insists, wanting to get more comfortable. “Mike and Mark, funny huh? I swear if my wife didn’t want to be traditional, Jeno would’ve been Matt or something like that.” Michael’s attempt at lightening the mood with a joke falls on deaf ears, and he must sense that your unease isn’t a result of only the party. “Go ahead, you can ask whatever you want.”</p><p class="p1">“How did I end up here?” You blurt, because that’s what you need to know above all else. It’s barely been forty eight hours and it feels as if your old life has been completely decimated out of your existence.</p><p class="p1">He takes his time pulling up a chair for you, arranging a very fancy tea cup filled to the brim with fragrant rose tea, and then carefully begins, “How much do you know about the political situation in Dorado? I can give you some reading if you’re interested, but I need to know where to start the basic run-through.”</p><p class="p1">“I mean, I watch the news, but I probably don’t know as much as you.”</p><p class="p1">Every kid regardless of background knows of the civil war-filled history between Elyxion and Neozone, the two prominent regions of Dorado, a history that has mainly been dominated by Neozone in recent times. Similarly, everyone knows how the late Premier Park had brought about a tentative truce between the two factions with the establishment of neutral capital city Pandora, where regents from both sides could influence governance of the nation as a whole. But ever since his untimely death, it seemed as if people on both sides were twiddling their thumbs, waiting for the other to make the first move.</p><p class="p1">Michael moves aside some papers on his desk, revealing a stunning, hand drawn map of Dorado. “Where was your town?” He asks.</p><p class="p1">You know exactly where your small cottage was, where the belly of the land extended out into the river. You point it out, “Here, I lived in Tactix.”</p><p class="p1">“Did anyone ask where you were from?” Michael asks hurriedly, glancing over to the door to see if anyone heard. You shake your head, confused, and then he lowly instructs, “When they do, tell them you’re from Zero Mile.”</p><p class="p1">“What? Why?”</p><p class="p1">“Look at the map again.”</p><p class="p1">You’re seeing the map in the same way you’d seen the old maps in your house, lined in the greens and blues of the scenery of your hometown. But then you see it, the bold, dotted line denoting the demarcation between Elyxion and Neozone.</p><p class="p1">Zero Mile is standing proudly on the Neozone side of the line. Tactix sits firmly on the other.</p><p class="p1">You hadn’t ever been in a situation where the location of your hometown could’ve brought you strife, but now you understand why Michael had looked worried. The new generation has become quite open minded, but a lot of the elder figureheads in both regions looked down upon citizens from the other.</p><p class="p1">“I guess I never registered we were technically part of Elyxion,” you muse, thinking of how on particularly clear days, you could see unknown buildings of Zero Mile in the distance, the cities had been that close. “We did our own thing, paid our taxes to Pandora, and that was it.”</p><p class="p1">“It is no secret that the new Premier has been…” he searches for the right, diplomatic word to describe his partner, “ambitious about expanding our borders.</p><p class="p1">“The area around the demarcation line has been highly disputed for a long, long time. There have been many varying historical documents denoting how this nation should be divided, with no general consensus on the way it should be. Even though Premier Park was from Neozone, he’d held on to this current border quite tightly to keep the peace. But, Premier Kim is quite the opposite in his patriotism, and tends to take the historical interpretation of how far our region should extend.I’ve been doing my best to alleviate the growing tension, but a lot of people are trying to get out of that area, fearing that it’s going to become a hot spot for takeover soon.”</p><p class="p1">“People like my parents," you say. Your parents, who, now that you think about it, had been quite stunned that Premier Kim had been selected to ascend.</p><p class="p1">He confirms your hypothesis with a sharp nod of his head, “Yes. I know you want to ask, but I truly cannot tell you why they did not come along.” He leans back in his chair to contemplate his theory,“Perhaps you as one girl were easier to hide, though I would’ve tried to make arrangements for all of you. We can do our own digging, if you want.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh. Okay,” you try not to let your disappointment at the non-answer show. Then, there’s another pressing query coming forth, “I still don’t understand why you’re helping me this much.”</p><p class="p1">“It was a long time ago, I was deep into the pit of the darkest era of my life,” Michael divulges, wistful expression settling onto his face as he runs through the recollections in his mind. “I crossed paths with your parents, and in my hour of need they helped me. I’ve been waiting for a time to return the favor, and here it came.”</p><p class="p1">Whoa. He and your parents, they knew each other? You thought you’d remembered every visitor that had ever crossed your path, but apparently not. And even so, it doesn’t seem like justification for what he’s doing.</p><p class="p1">“But you don’t have to do all this, buying me a <em>house</em> and enrolling me in school, I don’t know you, it’s too much. You have to at least let me pay for it, or something. Is there something I can do for you?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m supposed to pick out a jacket for the ascension ceremony before my stylist arrives on Tuesday. You can help me this time because Mark usually hates doing it.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t help the <em>are you kidding me </em>look, the deadpan, “That doesn’t pay back anything.”</p><p class="p1">“You can’t change my mind.” He’s totally serious about this, getting up from his desk to rummage through the coat closet behind you. “Okay, here are the options.”</p><p class="p1">The first is a plain black tuxedo jacket, tails and all, and while it’s fancy, it doesn’t seem to match the pompous air the proceedings will surely have. The next is a normal suit in a shiny, midnight blue fabric, looking exceedingly itchy. The last is a deep wine high low hemmed jacket, and while it’s probably your favorite of the three, it still feels exceedingly commonplace.</p><p class="p1">“These are,” you try find a polite way to put it, “so boring.”</p><p class="p1">“I know,” he groans, wrinkling his nose in displeasure as he scans through them. “This is more about picking which is least boring, I guess.”</p><p class="p1">A suggestion pricks into your mind, one you’re very shy to voice, “I know how to sew a little, maybe I can spruce these up a bit.”</p><p class="p1">How were you able to phrase that so casually? The memory of you and your mom together on your torn grey couch, laughing and sewing a quilt together as your dad made hot chocolate is all that you’re thinking of. Sew a little is definitely understating things, quite severely.</p><p class="p1">He holds out the garments, clearly pleased that you’ve offered to take this decision out of his hands, “Do whatever you want, they can always get me another jacket.”</p><p class="p1">Your hand runs over the silk lapel, and the feel of the elegant material has an idea shooting into you, “Yesterday, you mentioned something about a seed?”</p><p class="p1">“Every citizen of Neozone is bestowed a seed packet at birth by the Ministry of Cultivation, it’s an ancient, ancient tradition of the people here,” he explains the skeleton of a story he’d started yesterday. “No one knows how they’re selected, but the flower you receive is supposed to symbolize the inner bloom of your soul. Most people my age used to keep their flower’s identity a secret, but most kids nowadays know what is is the moment they’re old enough to look it up in the seed directory.</p><p class="p1">“Before a couple from here gets married, they have something called a blossom ceremony. The seed is planted, and is supposed to bloom when watered by the hand of your true love. It’s kind of fantastical, you won’t really believe it until you see it, but I, I love them.”</p><p class="p1">That sounds far too serious to contemplate now, but you certainly can register the emotional depth of his words, especially paired with the obvious absence of the wife he keeps mentioning. You’d never imagined that one tiny black dot in that envelope would give way to such deliberately honest matters as soulmates and true love.</p><p class="p1">“Can I,” you start, and he finishes the question he knows you’re trying to ask.</p><p class="p1">“Ask what mine is? It’s not some taboo thing, don’t worry,” he assuages your concern, turning a frame on your desk so you can see. “Here is a picture of my wife and I at our blossom ceremony.”</p><p class="p1">The photograph is so poignant, so classic, that it’s almost as if an old romantic painting has been transposed into the frame. The Vice Premier and his wife are matching in white, her with daisies braided into her hair, dual expressions of shocked delight high upon their faces as they contemplate the newly blossomed buds in the vases before them.</p><p class="p1">“Those are…”</p><p class="p1">“Black tulips,” he answers for you. “I was shocked, thought it was a terrible omen, until I looked over and saw hers were yellow tulips. It felt like we were destined for each other.” The lovelorn sigh that escapes his mouth must’ve been brewing in him for however many years since this picture was taken. You wonder what happened to her, the fact that this place is stuffed to the brim with tulips is not a coincidence.</p><p class="p1">“Dad, dad!” Jeno rushes into the room, face slick with sweat. “They’re pelting each other with baseballs again!”</p><p class="p1">“Your brother is going to kill me, kid,” he grunts, then passes all the jackets off to you to follow after his youngest son. Before he leaves he turns back, “Y/n, hang tight. I’ll deal with this, and take you to your house after, what do you say?”</p><p class="p1">You nod, and take a sip of your tea, trying to quell the itch to get started.</p><p class="p1">That itch stays nagging at you for the rest of the night, after you’ve finished your cup, after Michael has driven up and deposited you at the house on the hill, after you’ve taken the fifteen minutes you need to unpack all of your stuff. You forgo exploring, cleaning, or even going to sleep for the call of the large plastic box you’d pulled out of your duffel.</p><p class="p1">You’d grabbed this on a whim in your haste to pack up your belongings from home, unsure that you’d need it. But, as you straighten out the mass of red silk hung over your couch, you are glad that you’d done so.</p><p class="p1">Settling down into one corner of your giant seating arrangement, you place the jacket over your legs and reach for your sewing kit. You haven’t done this in a while, so it takes you a few attempts to properly thread the golden strand through your silver needle, fingers nervously twitching as you eye the sleeve cuff of one arm. Breathe, y/n, think about what Mom taught you, let your eyes do the magic, not your hands.</p><p class="p1">You lift up the sleeve, and get to work.</p><p class="p1">In and out, in and out, you weave the needle through the buttery fabric, in one direction, and the other. A sparkling blob begins to make an appearance, but is still indistinguishable from what your end goal is. You finish one layer of an outline, and dig for a darker hue of yellow from your thread collection. Adding in details like these, a curved outline here, and a shadow there, requires more precise stitching, your forehead furrowing as you concentrate on the aligning the tiny strands of string. You switch back to the bright gold when you’re done with that, touching up the rounded edges and descending slopes.</p><p class="p1">You’re almost breathless by the time you put your needle down, but not breathless with exhaustion. You’re breathless with a sense of victorious accomplishment. Because on the sleeve of the boring red jacket, is a beautiful golden tulip. A tulip so lifelike, you could reach out and pluck it right from the fabric.</p><p class="p1">You have no idea if this is something Mark’s father will adore or detest, but it’s too late to turn back, you’re already consumed with your task. Now that the first one’s out of the way, you begin methodically embroidering tulips one by one up the sleeve. Some are minute, some are modest, some are imposing, all of them interspersed with emerald-flecked leaves and tiny bees, the last feature added in as an homage to his son.</p><p class="p1">You’ve only know the Vice Premier and his family for two days, but it already feels like you’re sewing little bits of yourself into this jacket.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You don’t realize you’ve stayed up all night sewing until you hear a light knock on your front door as you’re fiddling with a leaf by the right shoulder pad. Looking up for the first time in what must be twelve hours, maybe fourteen, the beckoning morning sun hits your eyes, causing you to squint and lift a hand to cover your face.</p><p class="p1">The watch guard Michael insisted be posted outside of your place peeks his head in your house to inform you, “Ma’am, you have a visitor."</p><p class="p1">“Okay.”</p><p class="p1">“What do you want me to do?”</p><p class="p1">You’re not used to this, having to give orders to anyone. “Oh, let them in?"</p><p class="p1">“Hey. Do you have a screwdriver?” Jaehyun the Regent’s son is in the middle of your kitchen, in a tank top that shows off the expanse of his arms, his bangs being held back by a pink sweatband.</p><p class="p1">You want to duck under the couch, to hide the dark circles that are surely burgeoning under your eyes and the clothes you haven’t changed out of, but you’re frozen there, staring at him. He glances around his surroundings, clearly impressed by the finery, then apologizes, “Sorry to barge in, by the way. I saw that your light was on and figured you were home. Beats going down the hill to ask someone.”</p><p class="p1">“Uh, no idea,” you splutter, totally taken aback by his random query. “Let me look.”</p><p class="p1">You get up gingerly off the couch, taking care to drape the jacket over the back of it, and Jaehyun notices, “Wait, what is that?”</p><p class="p1">You glance down to where you have three needles pinned through the chest of your shirt, for easy access, and quickly pull them out of view. “Um, just a bit of sewing.”</p><p class="p1">“Just a bit of sewing?” He asks, not believing your casual tone. “What is that for?"</p><p class="p1">You feel lame as you explain it to him, “The Vice— Michael was supposed to pick out a jacket for the ceremony, but I offered to spruce it up. I’m really not sure if it’s good or not.”</p><p class="p1">Before you can tell him not to, he snatches up the jacket, fully goggling at your handiwork, showering you with an effervescent compliment, “Good? This is amazing! Wow, lucky that I came over today, so I can beat everyone out to get a request in.”</p><p class="p1">You gnaw on the inside of your cheek at the strange perturbation of your emotions that he induces, especially when he turns back to you after gently laying the suit top down and asks, “So, how’d you end up here? Mark texted me saying that someone was coming but I thought it was going to be a—,”</p><p class="p1">“Dude. I know,” you finish with sarcasm, before you tell Jaehyun the short of things, all that makes sense to you at the moment, “Our parents knew each other, mine sent me off here for a better opportunity. There wasn’t much for me back home.”</p><p class="p1">“And what’s back home for you?”</p><p class="p1">You recall how Mark’s dad had warned you yesterday, and smoothly lie, “I am from Zero Mile.”</p><p class="p1">He lets out a low whistle, “All the way out there, wow!”</p><p class="p1">You perch up on the arm of your couch as you take him in, take the way he’s chatting with you way too earnestly, and decide to turn the tables on him, “I don’t need to ask to know you’re from here, but you, you just decided to buy a house because…”</p><p class="p1">“Because I love my parents, but when I come home from my first year of college, I don’t want to spend my vacations tiptoeing around them,” Jaehyun hits you with the blunt truth, masking it with a charming little laugh, “What better place to go than all the way across town?” Regent Jung is responsible for overseeing all of Neozone, the capital city of the similarly named region, you can’t imagine what that translates to in a household.</p><p class="p1">It’s as if his words cast a summoning spell, because your front door bangs open at that, your guard’s panicked voice echoing into your house, “Sir, sir, you don’t have permission to go in!”</p><p class="p1">“I am Neozone’s Regent now, I can do what I want!” A sweaty man in glasses booms, then huffs his way inside, nearly incapacitating himself with his authoritative yell, “Jaehyun!”</p><p class="p1">“Sir!” A second man comes skidding in your tile floor, grasping at the Regent’s arm to pull him back to the door. “We can’t go in!”</p><p class="p1">“Get off me, Mr. Suh!” Regent Jung orders as he flings John’s hand off of him and turns back to his son, anger freezing into stern questioning, “Please tell me why I had to hear from the little Lee kid that you <em>bought a house?</em>”</p><p class="p1">You stick a finger in between your teeth, to stifle the guffaw you want to let out at the idea of Jeno spilling the beans. You wouldn’t put it past the tiny troublemaker to do something like that.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun remains calm, fixing his father with a placid smile and an even, “We talked about this, I need to establish some roots here for when college is done.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, but a house all the way up here?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun gestures out your window wall, “The view is nice.”</p><p class="p1">“<em>The view is nice</em>,” Jaehyun’s father repeats in disbelief, then hushes his voice into manipulative pleading, “Listen, sell it, I’ll buy you something even better that’s closer to us. Mom would like it.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun begins to speak, but the Regent is faster with his next query, “What are you doing in here, anyways, whose house is this?” He searches around for who the owner could be, eyes finally settling right on unrecognizable you, “Who are you?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m…”</p><p class="p1">“That’s y/n. She’s VP Lee’s guest,” Jaehyun takes the introduction right out of your mouth, doing his best to keep you out of whatever confrontation this is turning into.</p><p class="p1">Regent Jung releases a groan, massaging at his right temple and muttering, “I told him he needs to stop taking in freeloaders.”</p><p class="p1">“Dad!” Jaehyun gasps, just as Johnny winces.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry?”</p><p class="p1">“Where are you from, what school do you go to?” He questions you, forcing you to bear the load of his full authoritative scrutiny.</p><p class="p1">“Dad, come on!” Jaehyun pleads, but you feel inclined to answer.</p><p class="p1">“I’m from Zero Mile,” you make sure your false hometown is firmly in place when your quiet voice makes its way out, “and um, I think the high school Mark goes to? I’m not in college yet, I’m only seventeen.”</p><p class="p1">“Dad, come on, let’s talk somewhere that’s not her house.”</p><p class="p1">“Her house?! Michael bought this for her?!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun face goes completely blank at his father’s bizarre and continuing mistrust of you. He pushes at the older man’s shoulders to move him closer to the exit, away from where you are in the living room.</p><p class="p1">“Sir, I—,” you start, but John puts a hand over your shoulder.</p><p class="p1">“No, don’t get involved,” he warns you in a muted voice, equally as consumed with watching their back and forth. “It’s better to let them duke it out.”</p><p class="p1">They’ve muffled their voices well enough that you can’t hear, but it’s uncomfortable for you, knowing you’re surely the central topic of their argument. Are you not the only person that Michael has helped? Is that what the Regent meant by freeloaders?</p><p class="p1">You feel John’s thumb brush against your collarbone, then hear his soft whisper, “You didn’t answer me yesterday.”</p><p class="p1">“Sorry, what?” You feign ignorance because you’re fairly certain that this boy is going to permanently tint your cheeks that same hue as the silk jacket. Especially with the way he’s dared to bring this up now.</p><p class="p1">“You called me hot, then I asked you out,” he flicks his hair back in an unseen, arrogantly attractive way. “You didn’t answer, so?”</p><p class="p1">You brush your cheek in embarrassment against your shoulder, tucking your head bashfully as you admit, “I didn’t realize you were serious. Um, no, I can’t.”</p><p class="p1">That knocks the smirk off his face in one fell swoop. “Why not?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know you!” You exclaim, because you don’t! You can’t go running around willy-nilly with the ethereal men of this city when you haven’t even slept a night in your own house yet.</p><p class="p1">“Jefferson? What are you doing up here?” A familiar voice joins the frenzy, and everyone looks over to the door in surprise to see Michael and Mark, more than a bit bewildered by the unfolding scene.</p><p class="p1">Regent Jung bows deeply in greeting, “Vice Premier.”</p><p class="p1">Michael does not seem pleased at all, surely debriefed by the guard on the Regent’s inappropriate behavior, “Should we chat?”</p><p class="p1">The Regent has no choice but to follow the Vice Premier out onto the patio of your home, and Jaehyun takes that distraction to come back to your side and profusely atone for his father, “I’m sorry about that. I’m his only kid, so I get one hundred percent of his overprotectiveness. I’m sure he’s questioned every new person in Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">“Your dad is nice, but also a straight up weirdo, dude,” Mark has no problem dissing his best friend’s father, like this has come up before.</p><p class="p1">You’re not even particularly offended by stuff he’d said, because you have absolutely no context for his rage. “What was all that about freeloading?”</p><p class="p1">“Not again,” Mark groans, causing Jaehyun to whisper another round of <em>sorry</em>s. “He hasn’t done it for some time now, but Dad used to help poor people. I never heard much of the details but he’d set them up with houses and stuff here. I think it’s different since you’re the first kid he’s helped,” Mark reveals, before he swiftly tries to amend his statement, “Sorry, you’re not a kid or a dude, or, I guess poor, either. First young woman.”</p><p class="p1">John lets out a bark of laughter, “Smooth.”</p><p class="p1">You shrug, not bothered by this. “It’s okay. I’d probably be considered poor, to be honest.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun appears totally ashamed to divulge the next bit of information about his father, “Dad is a big Neozone loyalist. Anyone from out of town he’s automatically suspicious of, god only knows why.” It makes sense, that the Regent here is that traditional. It makes less sense, the way his next comment eats at you, “Baekhyun Byun is the best singer ever, and he’s from Elyxion. That shouldn’t matter.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve never heard of said singer before, but if he’s from Elyxion like you technically are, and Jaehyun doesn’t mind that fact, maybe you need to look him up.</p><p class="p1">Mark’s dad breaks up the teenaged discussion by clapping Jaehyun on the back, “Hey kiddo, I got your pops to cool off for a bit, but you probably should go home for dinner tonight instead of staying up here.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun nods his head in appreciation, “Yes, sir. Sorry again.”</p><p class="p1">VP Lee swings an arm around you next, “You’ve had a wild few days here in Neozone, huh? We thought we’d come to see how you were settling in, only to walk into a circus. We’ll come back later if you want.”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, no.” You take his hand in yours, and carefully pass him the mass of silk that you’d worked on for hours. “This is for you. I finished it this morning. I’m not sure if it’s what you want, but…”</p><p class="p1">There’s a distinct tremor in his fingers you pick up on as he glances down, to the one lively flower embroidered proudly on the lapel.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n…” he breathes out, eyes going glassy as he unfurls the jacket out in front of him, eyes wandering all over it. The other boys are gaping at the patterned backside of the garment, the hundreds of buds you’d spent hours painstakingly crafting.</p><p class="p1">“They’re golden tulips,” you murmur, fearing raising your voice would break the mood. “I thought about doing yellow, but gold fit so perfectly with the wine color.”</p><p class="p1"><em>I was shocked,</em> the Vice Premier’s sad voice is echoing in your ears, <em>until I looked over and saw hers were yellow tulips. It felt like we were destined for each other.</em></p><p class="p1">“You said your wife was your true love, and though I don’t know it all, I thought you would want to show her off on the biggest day of your life,” you explain, suddenly apprehensive that you’ve done something wrong, especially at the lack of response from them. Shit, you should’ve thought about the possibility of divorce or a less than amicable end. Maybe he didn’t want her memorialized in this way. “I’m so sorry if I overstepped.”</p><p class="p1">“This is perfect,” Mark sniffles out of nowhere, wiping a hand at his eyes. “Dad, it’s perfect.”</p><p class="p1">The older man’s mouth moves of its own accord, considering how consumed he is with taking in the jacket, “How much do you want for this? Tell me.”</p><p class="p1">Your lips twist up into a melancholy smile when you shake your head and defer his request, “No, no. You don’t have to pay me. Let me sew, it’s something I can do for your family.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay,” Michael whispers, one solitary tear tracking down his cheek. “You can do that.”</p><p class="p1">The memory you save of that day is mostly of the way Mark and his dad so lovingly hug, the jacket protectively crushed in between them. But there is a little sliver saved of the way Jaehyun’s voice spins into you before he leaves, </p><p class="p1">“When the orders come pouring in, remember that I was first.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Your fingers smooth and re-smooth the pleats of your checked skirt against your thigh, feet stalling on the square of sidewalk you’ve stuck yourself in. The anxiety of the past week has finally managed to dull to a throb, but you might be facing your most daunting task yet.</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” someone calls. “You nervous?”</p><p class="p1">You look behind you to see Yuta beside you, his tie haphazardly knotted around his neck, but not a hair out of place. You feel a modicum of relief, that you won’t be walking into this alone. “Hey. Why aren’t you at the capital?”</p><p class="p1">“According to protocols and for security purposes, only the three members of the Lee family shall board the train, to be accompanied by Pandora escorts only,” he mimics the official tone the guards use in a hilarious mockery of their stiffness, then grumbles, “Which basically means <em>fuck you, Yuta, you miss out on a dope trip to the capital.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Every storefront you’d passed on your walk into town had a big screen put up, displaying the livestream of the gathered crowd in front of the Pandora Building, where the two new national heads would make their solemn swears. Each seat in the stands had already been filled, even at this early hour, the eager citizens waiting to see the men walk in. You’re honestly surprised that today wasn’t a city-wide holiday.</p><p class="p1">“I hate crowds, but I’d rather be there than here right now."</p><p class="p1">“I got you, girl. You won’t be alone when I’m by your side,” Yuta proclaims, firmly taking your hand and marching the two of you in through the doors of the high school.</p><p class="p1">You want to pull your hand away once you’re inside, because it’s like you’ve set off an alert for people to start staring. Especially when Yuta casually breezes down the hall, continuing to hold your hand, his protective kindness continuing to inspire a silent swatch of warmth in your heart.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve never worn a uniform,” you hiss, trying to keep up with him. “I’ve never gone to school before! My parents homeschooled me!”</p><p class="p1">He pokes you in the cheek lightly, then teases, “But you’re not like, weird or anything.”</p><p class="p1">“Thanks, dude,” you accept it with a sigh, glancing around the unfamiliar halls, “It’s hard not to be nervous, though. My first and last year of high school.”</p><p class="p1">A pair of boys come sauntering along, seemingly Yuta’s friends with the way they both dap each other up in a complicated handshake. The one with the black hair opens the conversation, “ ‘Sup, Nakamoto. Who’s the fresh meat?”</p><p class="p1">“Doyoung, this is y/n, she’s from…” Yuta turns to you, unsure of your origins, after you’d tried to keep it on the down low as much as possible.</p><p class="p1">You fill in the rest for him with a polite smile, “Zero Mile.”</p><p class="p1">“Damn! You move here this summer or something? I’ve never seen you before,” his blonde friend wonders, before holding out a hand to you in greeting. “Lucas Wong.”</p><p class="p1">A cute girl with a bob joins the circle and takes the liberty of explaining your story on your behalf, more straightforward than you’d been expecting, “Oh, she’s the poor girl staying with the Lees that was at the kickback last week.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s vigilant instinct cuts in, and he immediately counters her statement, “She’s not poor, and she’s not staying at the mansion.”</p><p class="p1">“Come on, Bin, that’s no way to greet a new student.” A second, even more beautiful girl comes walking up and extends her manicured fingers out to you, “Mimi Kim, class president.”</p><p class="p1">While Binnie winces in guilt, you shake the hand of this boss girl who’d reined in the comments about you, “Hi, nice to meet you.”</p><p class="p1">Boss girl isn’t quite right, it’s probably more like <em>queen bee</em>, because Mimi is surrounded by a posse of women as stunning as her, all eyeing you with various degrees of curiosity and aversion. “Looks like you’ve already met Doyoung and Lucas. This is Joy, Seola, Yooa, and Binnie, my sister.”</p><p class="p1">“Everyone, shut up!” somebody hollers from down the hall. “The parade is starting!”</p><p class="p1">That explodes the atmosphere of the school into excitement. Yuta grabs your hand again as everyone goes running to the open atrium, where the entire white wall is covered in a projection of the march. You have to stand on your tiptoes to see above the mass of the crowd, but surely enough, there is your friend, your first friend in the city, walking down the middle of the main Pandora highway, arm in arm with his father and little brother.</p><p class="p1">“Holy shit,” Doyoung curses, eyes blowing wide. “Look at Mark and the VP! Holy shit!”</p><p class="p1">Lucas is slowly nodding his head in incredulous appreciation, echoing, “That drip is unreal.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” Mimi gasps. “Who made their blazers?”</p><p class="p1">Because it’s not just Mark, Jeno, and VP Lee walking down the street arm in arm. It’s Mark, Jeno, and VP Lee walking down the street in the extravagant embroidered jackets you’d made for them. The footage of them strolling down the street must run for about twenty minutes in total, the time it takes for them to make it up the stairs of the Pandora Building, but the entire twenty minutes are punctuated by the same eager discussion.</p><p class="p1">“It looks like Versace, or something,” Seola is the first one to hazard a guess as to the identity of the tailor.</p><p class="p1">“No, no,” Joy waves a hand. “I think I saw a line out of Chanel that was identical.”</p><p class="p1">“I swear, there was this French designer I saw on Instagram who put out a floral line just like that,” Binnie suggests as she scrolls her phone to look for proof. Proof that she won’t find.</p><p class="p1">“The Premier must be <em>pissed</em>,” Doyoung chuckles, face still lit up in awe at the sight. “His suit looks like hot garbage in comparison.”</p><p class="p1">Hot garbage is a bit of an exaggeration, it’s obvious the stylists had offered the same brand of boring suits up to Premier Kim. He’d gone with the white and hadn’t called for backup, so he does look quite washed out in comparison to Michael, who is positively glittering in the sunlight. Even through the screen, the tulips look freakishly real, soft texture of the petals coming through the pixels.</p><p class="p1">“Seriously, why isn’t there any information about who those are by?” Binnie huffs, after the third scroll through her social media warranted no answers.</p><p class="p1">“Let me text Hyunie to see if he knows, he’s always with Mark,” Mimi starts, but doesn’t even have the messages pulled up on her phone before Lucas blatantly coughs. </p><p class="p1">“Um, hello?” He then performs the most pointed head tilt of his life, three times in your direction. Here it comes.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, yeah, Yuta!” Mimi turns her line of questioning not to you, but to the man beside you. “You must’ve been there when Mark got his jacket fitted. Do you know who the designer was?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” he answers with no hesitation, before you can stop him. “Y/n.”</p><p class="p1">You’re well and truly in it now.</p><p class="p1">“You’re joking,” Mimi denies his claim. “There’s no way.”</p><p class="p1">“Nope. I’m not joking,” Yuta affirms, then holds out his phone for all to see.</p><p class="p1">The stylist had insisted that all three of the Lees matched at the ceremony. So, you’d spent the rest of the week finishing scaled-down versions of the first jacket you’d sewn, only you’d made black and gold jackets for the Lee sons. It was a crazy three sleepless nights, punctuated by a lot of Red Bull, Mark rapping in your ear, and Jeno pleading with his father to stay at your house past his bedtime. They’d ended up sprawled on your living room floor in sleeping bags, you closing your room off for privacy to finish your work.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun and Johnny were only there for a night before they’d had to leave for their first year at Pandora University, which meant that Yuta was your companion for a good portion of those final hours. Hours where he’d apparently snapped photos of you at work. This particular one he’s showing off is you with your head on a pillow in Mark’s lap, him and Jeno watching Transformers on your TV, you more preoccupied with the tulip you’re sewing on the collar of Jeno’s little jacket. This is the undeniable proof Binnie had been looking for.</p><p class="p1">Mark’s father is on his knees before the High Minister on the gleaming white steps, Dorado flag flying proudly off to the side, preparing to swear his oath to the citizens of the nation. But your peers couldn’t care less as they set up on you in a frenzy,</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god, can you make me something!” “No, me first!” “No, me!” “Me, I’m closest to Mark!” “I need a homecoming dress!” “But I asked first!”</p><p class="p1">“Back away, everyone, please,” Yuta takes his place in front of you, commanding voice belying his satisfied smile in giving you your moment in the spotlight.</p><p class="p1">“I, I was hired by the Lees,” you shyly explain, hiding as much as you can behind the man’s frame. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do personal requests.”</p><p class="p1">“What the hell!” “We’ll pay!” “Let us pay, please!” “I would die for one of these!’</p><p class="p1">There is a time, far in the future from now, where you will look back on this moment and realize what a harbinger it’d been, of things to come. But in the present, you’re simply a teenage girl, trying to figure out if you want to bask in the glow of a world that suddenly knows you, or flee for your life.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Elyxion troops were seen walking back from the demarcation line, perhaps as a result of the Vice Premier’s ascension speech, indicating the new regime will not be seriously looking into re-drawing the current borders of the country. No word yet if this is a sign the leadership team will begin re-establishing trade connections between the two regions.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Boy, do I look strange on camera.”</p><p class="p1">The sound of the man’s voice causes you to shoot up out of your seat, and you scramble up when you see Mark’s father there watching you watch him on the TV. You’d spent the last half an hour in your friend’s lounge room, watching the latest news updates, too tired to make the trek back home.</p><p class="p1">“Sir!” You exclaim, diving for the remote to change the channel. “Welcome back.”</p><p class="p1">Your attempt to move aside from the VP’s coverage only blasts a different report on the screen, “Everyone is dying to know, who created Vice Premier Michael Lee’s jacket—,” you nearly drop the remote in your haste to get the bloody thing to turn off, laughing sheepishly as you do. “Oh, shit, sorry. I’m sorry, you’re probably sick of that.”</p><p class="p1">He shrugs, not seeming particularly mad as he drops onto the couch next to you. “Don’t worry, it’s something you get used to.” He lifts a leather bag onto the cushion and nudges it over to you, “I brought a couple things back for you.”</p><p class="p1">“Sir—,” you start to protest, because really, more gifts?</p><p class="p1">“Relax, it’s not a house,” he laughs, already attuned to your idiosyncrasies. “Let’s start with this.”</p><p class="p1">Michael pulls out a bound leather book, title covered in the most elegant calligraphy you’ve ever seen, spelling out <em>Dorado: An Annals of Elyxion and Neozone. </em>Opening up to a random page in the middle, you blow out a low breath when you see that it’s a copy of a map of the nation from a hundred years ago. Done with ink on parchment, you run your fingertips over the longitude and latitude lines, never having seen an artifact like this in your life before.</p><p class="p1">“Whoa. Is this real?”</p><p class="p1">He nods, passing it over to you so you can marvel at the pages, “Every regent is given one when he starts his term. It’s a compilation of maps of our nation’s history, from the very first time settlers stepped foot on the land.”</p><p class="p1">You think back hard to the earliest history lessons your father had given to you, with a book as old as this but not preserved half as well, “The settlers who founded Elyxion were here first, by a few months or so, followed by the sailors who established Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">“Right.”</p><p class="p1">Michael shifts the book in your hands so that he can reach the pages. He thumbs back to the very first page, the crudest map of the lot, sketched out with charcoal on a stripped piece of bark. The spaces have been dyed out with natural colors of green and purple, surely from berries or something of the sort. The grassy hue encompasses most of the map, with the mauve stretching primarily across the western coast.</p><p class="p1">“This is the oldest map that has been preserved,” he points out the date, one hundred and ninety five years ago.“You can see how different it looks to today, how all of north Pandora used to be under our control, how the border dipped to the Southern Sea. The nation was established in a much more lopsided manner than it is today.”</p><p class="p1">You recall the map on his desk, the borders that are in effect today. The entire northern part of the nation had been demarcated by Premier Park as Pandora, the capital, and much of the southern control Neozone once held has slipped under Elyxion’s hand. While Neozone presently regulates a good portion of the land controlling the country’s natural resources, the rest of the land is now split in an even division of space.</p><p class="p1">You notice a familiar spot dyed in both purple and green and ask, “Was this area under conflict or something?”</p><p class="p1">Michael flips to the next set of maps, from five years after the first one, and you see that the area you currently live in now neatly colored in green. He explains, “The first settlers both laid claim to the flower fields. The supposed legend says the first leaders of Neozone and Elyxion literally had a sword duel to determine who gained possession of the river and the flowered land.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve actually heard that, too,” you are fairly sure he and you are thinking of the same thing. You and your dad used to play sword fight this story all the time. “The man from Neozone won the land by driving his sword through the other man’s eye.”</p><p class="p1">You would poke at his face with the empty paper towel roll and he’d dramatically groan, clutching at his eye, and then collapse. You’re pretty sure that was a bit too gruesome for child you to be reenacting, but they’re fond memories to you.</p><p class="p1">“And I suppose that conflict has never truly gone away. You can see it clearly in just how this border has changed throughout the years,” he goes on, flipping through the maps one by one in a visual depiction of just how much turmoil has plagued Dorado over its history.</p><p class="p1">As the maps modernize, going from berry juice and bark to ink and parchment to geometric, printed computer colors, you soak the lesson in. Back and forth, back and forth, pockets of land being claimed by one side or the other, with no rhyme or reason to the way they’re picked out. One city is tugged to the west, then back again to the east ten years later.</p><p class="p1">One of the most jarring scenes is the map from eighty-five years ago, the colors marked out in faded reds and blues. The angry crimson has almost enveloped the whole country, except for the tiniest teardrop of blue, composed of the river and the city center you’re in, and absolutely nothing else.</p><p class="p1">“Oof,” you groan, pinpointing the time exactly, “that was the Growl Conflict, right?”</p><p class="p1">The series of guerrilla clashes that had led to Elyxion’s near takeover of the nation had been named in that way due to the way that they had modified their tank treads at the time. As they’d approached enemy lines, it would sound like thousands of growling, rabid wolves were on the loose, wreaking an unimaginable level of psychological terror on the soldiers of Neozone. The Elyxion soldiers ran rampant through all of Dorado during that era, expanding as far as their own strength would let them.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, Elyxion’s armed forces were unreal at that time,” Michael’s voice is quiet with awe and a note of mourning. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that he’d had some family members who died in the war. “That strength has been pretty much quashed since the Mad City rebellion, though.”</p><p class="p1">Everyone regardless of regional affiliation knows about the Mad City rebellion — when legendary Neozone soldier Taeyong Lee singlehandedly decimated Elyxion’s military presence throughout the nation. He’d worked in the dead of night with a small band of his comrades, destroying wartime machinery and killing all who crossed him.He didn’t possess even a fraction of the firepower Elyxion’s military did, but he squashed them completely out, as if they were insignificant little bugs. He stole back acres and acres of lush land that had been Neozone’s prior to the Growl Conflict, deliberately snatching up other areas that gave him both strategic and economic advantages.</p><p class="p1">Terrified of what he could do to them if advanced any further past the river, Elyxion submitted when Taeyong proposed the start the premiership, one person to preside over both regions of the country. Neozone had basically presided over the nation with an iron fist since then, its regional matters taking precedence. It wasn’t until the late Premier Park had come around that the idea of representation had brought about some equality between the states.</p><p class="p1">Michael is finally at the map of the current times, the border that’s been held since Taeyong had signed his truce with the leaders of Elyxion, “Neozone now holds enough land controlling natural resources and import export locations that Elyxion’s forced to play nice to keep in our good graces.”</p><p class="p1">“Their leaders must be waiting in fear of retaliation,” you hypothesize, “because many people here still think what Taeyong did wasn’t far enough? That we should’ve wiped them out for once and for all back then?”</p><p class="p1">“Exactly,” the VP solemnly confirms, flipping back to the oldest map, the one where Neozone held control of the most land. “Premier Kim tends to take this original map as present interpretation. That’s why I’m almost halfway glad he picked me as his cohort, because I can appreciate a more nuanced approach to inter-regional relations.”</p><p class="p1">Your limited time spent with Michael has shown you that he’s even-keeled, diplomatic, and sympathetic, and if there’s anyone who can heal the wounds this nation’s suffered, it would surely be him. His hand runs across the dip in the land that marks your hometown, tying a ragged knot right into your chest as he says,</p><p class="p1">“Where you lived has changed hands so many times, it would be unfair for me to erase the sentiment that they believe they have a right to the land. Just as I think it rightfully belong to us after the rebellion that avenged the war my great-grandfather died in.”</p><p class="p1">Mark's father's eyes are misty when he fixes you with a pensive look and gently says,  “I think that you should be proud of where you’re from, even if it's from Tactix. But I’m not like a lot of people here in Neozone. Here, there are many people who will mistreat you when they find out you’re from Elyxion, regardless of whether you consider yourself a part of it or not.”</p><p class="p1">You’d been taught all these events before, but seeing them in this context makes it feel much more acutely painful. There is too much bad blood staining the history of your nation now, you can't tell if you're contaminated in the eyes of the young men you've met, and you're not sure why that bothers you. </p><p class="p1">“Nobody knows,” you promise, gripping his hand. “Nobody ever will, that’s the least I can do in thanks to you.”</p><p class="p1">“Good. Your parents sent you to me for safekeeping, perhaps now you understand why.”</p><p class="p1">Though you might not grasp their personal motivations yet, you can interpret it within the realm of their political ones. “Yes.”</p><p class="p1">“On that note,” he withdraws his grasp from yours, digging around in the bag again, “this is also for you.”</p><p class="p1">He pulls out an old, chipped Nokia phone, and you try to quash the inherent rejection for something a bit more polite, “I’m genuinely not trying to be annoying, but I already have a phone.”</p><p class="p1">“This,” he starts, quieting his voice so that none of the guards posted outside can hear, “This is a phone you shouldn’t show anyone.”</p><p class="p1">Oh? A secret phone?</p><p class="p1">Your fingers power on the device as he elaborates, “I told you we could do some digging, and well, you can probably see that my avenues to do so are severely limited by my presence in the public eye.”</p><p class="p1">He’d promised you that you could do some digging on why your parents had sent you off with little more than a note, but you’d taken the words as lip service. Here he is, actually following through.</p><p class="p1">“You don’t have to—,”</p><p class="p1">He closes your fingers around the phone. “They’re your mom and dad, and they were my friends at a time, and I’d really like you to know.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay.”</p><p class="p1">He presses one of the keys, the screen lighting up, and he taps through a few more menus before the contact list is open. There’s only one entry, hidden under the alias <b>K </b>.<b></b></p><p class="p1">“There’s a woman on the other end. She’s my friend,” he keeps it light, vague. “I don’t know if she will know anything, but there’s always a chance. You won’t ever receive anything, but you may call as often as you want. There’s no guarantee she’ll answer. So, if she does, make it a good question.”</p><p class="p1">You know the implied meaning behind his phrasing, <em>be careful what you ask for. </em>You can’t help the overwhelming urge to hug Michael, and you do so, finally comforted by something akin to familial love. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s the least I could do, y/n. The jacket was beautiful.”</p><p class="p1">When you’re firmly ensconced in your bed that night, sheets tucked into your chin, you pull out the phone once more. Could it be possible that this tiny device possesses the knowledge you so desperately crave? You know it seems like a long shot, but you at least have to try. Following the steps Mark’s dad had gone through earlier, you click to the contact book, and without another second of hesitation, you press <em>call</em> on the number.</p><p class="p1">It rings, rings, ring again, and… No answer.</p><p class="p1">You find yourself calling the number many times during your life in Neozone, and each instance produces the exact same result. No answer. But you keep doing it anyways, because you will never be able to let go of this until you know the truth.</p><p class="p1">And when the truth comes, well. Maybe you should’ve stopped calling.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. hyacinthoides non-scripta</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Both of you severely underestimate Jeno’s sharp mind, the even sharper glare he sends when he sees right through your identical façades, “Okay, you two aren’t my parents no matter how much you act like you’re married! Where’s Dad?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Nono!” you bellow into the hallway. “Nono!”</p><p class="p1">Nothing, not a peep of sound, comes out from around the corner. You wait for another minute, already getting impatient, and then you shout again, “Jeno Lee, I swear to god, if Jaemin’s mother yells at me for you being late, again!”</p><p class="p1">Jeno comes skidding into the corridor, running while trying to zip his bag and button up his jersey, already out of breath, “I’m coming, I’m coming! I couldn’t find my bat! Plus, I told you a thousand times not to call me Nono anymore.”</p><p class="p1">“But what about the tale of Marco Nono?” you protest, slightly upset that he feels too grown up for the funny tandem nickname that he and his brother had once utilized. Jeno frowns in displeasure, letting the door almost hit you as you walk out of the mansion, and you relent, “Okay, fine, your highness. Whatever you want.”</p><p class="p1">Once Winwin, the graduate student Michael hired as a part-time chauffeur, is driving both of you to the indoor practice field that’s on the outskirts of town, you poke at his knee and furtively mutter, “What do you think she’s going to talk to me about today?”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun’s latest song Candy blasting over the speakers plus the subject of his best friend's gossipy mom is enough to erase the boy’s sour mood. His cheeky face turns upon you, “Wanna bet?”</p><p class="p1">Winwin snickers as you chastise Jeno, “You aren’t even thirteen yet, you should not be betting!”</p><p class="p1">“Mark bets with me.”</p><p class="p1">“Your brother cannot be fired from your family like I can!” you protest, because surely Michael would not like you encouraging a gambling habit in his youngest son. But he pouts and you’re weak and you can only cave again, “Fine.”</p><p class="p1">This brat has probably been planning this for some time, because he immediately launches into his stipulations, “She’ll ask you how college is, you can’t get around that. Make a comment about how Min is better at me in fielding. Oh, and she’ll definitely be nosy about why dad isn’t here. Five dollars for each one I get right.”</p><p class="p1">The gall of him! “You are… too much.”</p><p class="p1">That only spurs Jeno on further, grin so much like Mark’s spreading across his face, “Let’s round it out to a nice twenty and say she’ll either ask you to sew her something or bother you about when you’re going to get around to dating!”</p><p class="p1">“Jeno!”</p><p class="p1">“All of your friends are.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s literally not true,” you grumble, highly annoyed that this twelve year old has made you blush like this. You turn it back on him, “Tell me, which of your brother’s friends has a girlfriend right now?” Winwin has been around enough that he actually laughs out loud at your question when he pulls the car to a stop in front of the stadium. It’s no big secret how famously unattached your friends are.</p><p class="p1">“None of them…” Jeno starts to concede, before he stabs you right in the back, “Because they’re all in love with you.”</p><p class="p1">Winwin is howling now as you begin to splutter, up in arms at his explosive statement. Like, come on. That’s literally so wrong. You get out of the car as fast as you can and slam the door behind you in your rage, which only makes Winwin laugh harder and Jeno’s smile grow brighter.</p><p class="p1">“I can assure you they’re very much not,” you growl as you give him his bag and push him towards the doors.</p><p class="p1">“Wanna bet?” Oooh, he’s going to be in so much trouble if you tell the VP when he gets back this week.</p><p class="p1">“Jeno!” Coach Pyo hollers once you’re inside. “Let’s go!</p><p class="p1">You glance down at the boy, making sure he’s got everything he needs. Hat, check, jersey, check, bats, check, pants… “Gotta hike up those pants properly, kiddo.”</p><p class="p1">Coach is a notorious stickler for the kids wearing the uniform pants at the proper height, hiked up around their knees with long socks in the traditional way. Jeno’s got his rolled down all the way to his feet, so you crouch down to do them up for him. But when you pull the length of fabric up, you see that he’s forgone the regular blue socks the other kids wear for the ones you’d sewed him for his twelfth birthday. He’d been going through a Case Closed phase then, so you’d embroidered him a pair of knee socks with Conan’s face all over them.</p><p class="p1">Conan goes a little blurry in your eyes as you sniff, “You wore these? I thought you were too cool for the stuff I made.”</p><p class="p1">When you glance up, Jeno actually looks twelve and tiny again, not the twelve going on twenty he seems to be lately, and he whispers, “Love you.”</p><p class="p1">You kiss his cheek lightly, quickly so the other boys won’t rag on him too hard, then send him off, “Love you too, Nono! Channel your inner Taeil Moon!”</p><p class="p1">He jogs onto the field, taking his place amongst his teammates, while you internally groan at the sight of the almost empty parents section in the bleachers. Empty save for Jaemin’s mother, who doesn’t miss a beat the moment you sit down, “He’s late again, y/n.”</p><p class="p1">You ignore her comment completely. “Hello, Mrs. Na, very good to see you.”</p><p class="p1">She returns the favor, bypassing your polite comment for hers, “I know his father is very busy, but he should be around to see his son’s practices.”</p><p class="p1">This is the same thing you go through every time you bring Jeno to one of his practices, she takes her very traditional views and tries to impose them upon your very untraditional life. You know she frowns upon the fact that you’re filling in for Jeno’s mother, an extremely graceless thing to do considering you and he both hold the hope that she’ll return to take over one day. Besides, that’s a topic you know otherwise not to broach, whether it be at home or out in public.</p><p class="p1">“Your husband isn’t here,” you point out.</p><p class="p1">“Where is the Vice Premier, anyways? It’s the holidays.” Bye, to your first five dollars. That’s as much money as you’re predicting you’ll give up to Jeno, you think you can keep this conversation on track.</p><p class="p1">You give her the vaguest bit of information you can, “He’ll be returning from duties in Pandora tomorrow night, as he always does.”</p><p class="p1">“Doesn’t he ever get tired?” she wonders, though you’re not sure it’s from a place of genuine care. “Commuting back and forth like that?”</p><p class="p1">“As you said, he should be around to see his sons grow up, I’m sure it’s no big deal to him.”</p><p class="p1">Michael took the train every day to the capital during your first year in the city, in order to be around for both of his kids and you. Even now, he still does the commute regularly, but now that you and Mark are both in college, and are able to do more to help out with Jeno, he stays in Pandora for most of the week and comes home for the weekends.</p><p class="p1">During the lull in conversation, you watch the baseball players, easily spotting Jeno in his lucky thirteen jersey. They’re doing conditioning out in the field, trying to catch ground balls that Coach Pyo hits out their way. Jeno might be the most talented kid on the team, but he is still clumsily awkward sometimes, and you see it in action now. He’s able to deftly grasp a few of the balls sent his direction, but more than a few stutter away from his grasp. That’s in comparison to Jaemin, who is smoothly catching each ball that goes his way.</p><p class="p1">“Jeno works so much on his pitching, he’s behind MinMin in the field. You should remind the VP that they should work on those drills,” Mrs. Na informs you haughtily, and sure, fine. You’re okay with giving Jeno ten dollars.</p><p class="p1">You nod curtly. “Right.”</p><p class="p1">You had really hoped your short tone would end the conversation, but she blithers on anyways, “So, how was your first semester at Neozone U?” Fifteen, already?!</p><p class="p1">“It was fine,” you inform her, with no enthusiasm whatsoever, in bare bones detail, “Mr. Lee, Mr. Nakamoto, and I live at home and commute together, which us saves us a lot of time. I’m not sure what I want to focus on yet, it’s not like sewing is a major.”</p><p class="p1">“Speaking of sewing.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t believe you’re about to lose twenty dollars to Mark’s kid brother after only thirty minutes of conversation with Mrs. Na.</p><p class="p1">She doesn’t even have to ask the full question, the intrigued gleam in her eye is enough to fill in the blanks for you. You sigh, and parrot out the same line you’d repeated a gazillion times the past year and a half, “I am the Lee family seamstress. I don’t take personal orders, I’m sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“Please? I want to surprise MinMin, he’s always talking about the pieces you make for Jeno.”</p><p class="p1">“I make them for him because I work for his family.”</p><p class="p1">“You and the eldest Lee son are practically engaged already, you don’t <em>just </em>work for them,” she huffs, making her own connections about your and Mark’s relationship.</p><p class="p1">But you’re less preoccupied with correcting her and more concerned about whether or not you actually owe Jeno twenty five dollars? The last stipulation had been <em>or</em>, meaning you didn’t have to pay him five dollars for both the sewing request and the dating life inquiry, right?</p><p class="p1">Your vision goes dark as a hand comes to cover your eyes, and a deep voice probes, “You’re engaged to who now?”</p><p class="p1">“What the—,” you exclaim, grasping at the fingers to wrench them out of your vision, to reveal who had bombarded you like this. That turns out to be a grinning Jaehyun, wrapped up in a cozy grey sweater. A crop of surprised giggles bubbles out of your mouth as you get up to hug him, “Hi. You weren’t supposed to be back from Barcelona until New Years!”</p><p class="p1">When you tug him out of the way before Mrs. Na can get even nosier and listen, he explains his surprise appearance back in the city, “I know, but the idea of not being at home for Christmas really sucked.”</p><p class="p1">“How did you know I was here?” you really can’t stop smiling, because it so good to see him here, good to see John buying a coffee from the vending machine as he always does.</p><p class="p1">“Who else would take Jeno to winter ball at seven am on a Thursday?” Jaehyun asks the rhetorical question, because no one in the Lee household is willing to get up that early except for you. “Landed an hour ago and figured we’d swing by.”</p><p class="p1">“Mark and Yuta are going to lose their goddamn minds,” you say as you hug Johnny in greeting, the three of you laughing again as you think of the impending reaction of your missing two pieces.</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun!” Jeno’s high voice crashes into you from behind, and you all turn to see him, mouth open in shock as he processes the sight of his brother’s friend. </p><p class="p1">“No-,” Jaehyun catches himself, still remembering the request to drop the old nickname, then waves happily, “Jeno!”</p><p class="p1">He runs up to the boy, catching him in a hug, easily lifting him despite the inches he’s grown. Even after they’re done embracing, they animatedly chatter on about something, the sight of their two faces together brewing unabashed delight in your chest.</p><p class="p1">“What am I? Chopped liver? I swear that kid loves him more than me.” Johnny grumbles, crossing his arms in mock frustration. You’re about to tell him he’s right when you’re treated with a very throaty, “Hopefully it’s not the same for you. You want to go out tomorrow?”</p><p class="p1">The last time you’d seen him was the Labor Day grill fest, when he’d spent the entire day bronzy and shirtless, inspiring such a ferocious blush in your cheeks that Mark’s dad actually asked you if you had sunburn. That somehow doesn’t even compare to now, the semester spent apart actually worsening your reaction to his typical question.</p><p class="p1">“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve!” you mutter, nervously glancing around to ensure Mrs. Na had not caught any of that.</p><p class="p1">You don’t know what number rejection you’re on, but Johnny is still unfazed, “So, is that a no?”</p><p class="p1">“That’s a no,” you mumble, saved by the appearance of Mark’s brother and his friend, Jaehyun lagging behind the pair of them. You certainly can’t continue this particular conversation in front of all of them, thank god.</p><p class="p1">You bump Jeno’s fist, and then you whisper, “Mrs. Na says your fielding is straight up trash!”</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god…” Jaemin gripes in embarrassment, burying his face in his hands. “I hate her….”</p><p class="p1">But Jaemin’s embarrassment spurs Jeno’s victorious pride, and he holds out his hand for the money you owe him. You dig out your wallet, sifting through the bills, and drop a crisp twenty in his palm, “Here.”</p><p class="p1">He clearly had been expecting a five or a ten with the way his eyes widen. “No way.”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, here,” you reluctantly dig out the extra five and put it on top of the other bill. “This, too.”</p><p class="p1">Jeno’s mouth twists in confusion and you hate that you have to disclose this in front of your friends, “She asked me for clothes <em>and</em> brought up my personal life. You went five for five.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun cackles at the way Jeno triumphantly jumps in celebration, but mostly at you, “No one at Neozone U has ensnared you yet?” You must give Jaehyun the strangest look, because he quickly clarifies, “I’m asking for John.”</p><p class="p1">“The only men at Neozone U that have ensnared me are your two best friends because they never leave me alone.”</p><p class="p1">“What if I pay for your breakfast and pretend like it’s a date?” Johnny offers.</p><p class="p1">“Breakfast?” you ask.</p><p class="p1">“You think we wouldn’t go right to Bomb’s Away our first morning back in Neozone?” Of course, after months of high class European fare, these two hefty boys want nothing more than to go to town on some greasy diner food.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll let you pay because I’m a freeloader,” you use the self deprecating nickname inspired by Regent Jung, but point your finger at John when a smirk crosses his face, “Don’t get cocky.”</p><p class="p1">He holds his hands up in denial as you take out your phone to call Mark, rolling your eyes in annoyance when it doesn’t ring and instead goes right to voicemail. You don’t hide that you’re annoyed in your message,“Bumble, wake your stupid ass up and meet me at Bomb’s Away at nine thirty. Otherwise you owe me big time! More than you already do!”</p><p class="p1">You’re texting the same sentiment to a more reliable Yuta when Jeno taps your arm, “Can Min come?”</p><p class="p1">The pair can’t go anywhere without each other, but you’re not entirely sure his mother will let him tag along with your very renegade band of friends. “If his mother is okay with him being under a degenerate’s influence, why not.”</p><p class="p1">You’re treated to the very comical image of Jaemin puffing out his chest and doing his best to raise a flirtatious eyebrow, “Are you okay being around my influence?”</p><p class="p1">Jeno, Jaehyun, and Johnny all let out the same groan, and you really have to control yourself in order to not laugh in this precocious kid’s face.</p><p class="p1">“You’re twelve, bud,”you deadpan. “Go ask your mom.”</p><p class="p1">“Damn it!” Jaemin curses under his breath, childish plan to charm you his way foiled once again.</p><p class="p1">He ends up getting his mother’s approval to tag along to breakfast. The group of you forgo calling the driver to take the short walk to where your usual diner is. You let the kids run ahead, and take in the sight of Jaehyun and Johnny in their very sophisticated sweaters before you start the conversation up again, “Ugh, could you two look any more fabulous and European? I can’t wait to hear about it all.”</p><p class="p1">You were only slightly jealous that they got to study abroad in Spain. It felt weird spending the whole semester here alone, not having anyone to go blueberry picking with or sit in the stands for Jeno’s games with.</p><p class="p1">Johnny gives you the details, “You’re going to get a lot of the same story. We barely passed our classes, ate gigantic amounts of cured ham, drank wayyyyy too much, and got asked about flowers literally every day.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sure the European girls loved that,” you say wryly at the last bit. You’ve learned from your time here that there’s nothing a girl likes more than getting flowers, and for them to be from a place so wonderfully lush as this, the foreign girls had probably eaten it up.</p><p class="p1">“Loved what?” Jeno innocently asks after he catches your comment.</p><p class="p1">“Their kind hearts and polite personalities!” you stiffly brush off his query through gritted teeth, to not venture into the more inappropriate topics your conversation had otherwise been implying.</p><p class="p1">Case in point, Johnny swinging his arm around you when Jeno turns back around to whisper with his friend, his casual drawl, “We stayed loyal to Neozone girls, no worries.”</p><p class="p1">“There are children right there!” you hiss. “And am I supposed to feel flattered?”</p><p class="p1">“Yup,” Johnny breezes out. Jaehyun at least has the decency to go a shade red in bashfulness.</p><p class="p1">You have your mouth open, to shove a comeback right in Johnny’s smug face, when you hear the sleepy strains of Mark’s voice, “Bee, why were you soooo aggressive on the pho—,”</p><p class="p1">“Surprise, Marco!”</p><p class="p1">Mark is the embodiment of the cheeriest summer sun when he sees his best friend here in Neozone. “Jae!”</p><p class="p1">The two of them go sprinting to each other on the sidewalk in front of Bomb’s Away, leaping and tangling up into the broiest of reunited bro hugs. Yuta and John take a more subdued approach, embracing each other calmly. “What’s up, brother?!” “I didn’t think you’d be back by now.” “I can’t believe you’re here!” “It’s soooo good to see you!”</p><p class="p1">You loop an arm around Jeno’s frame, holding him closely as you watch the squad of four reunite. It feels like the tiny squares forming your heart have aligned into the perfect map that holds all of you together.</p><p class="p1">The bell on the front entrance of the diner dings brightly, and then there’s a shocked, “Hyunie?” Your head swivels to see Mimi in the doorway, manicured hand covering her glossed lips in total surprise, “Oh my god, Hyunie! I can’t believe you’re back!”</p><p class="p1">“That’s one girl who certainly feels flattered,” Johnny ribs lowly, and you take the opportunity to sock him right in the fleshy part of his arm.</p><p class="p1">You’re not at all shocked to see her here, this is a popular weekend hangout for your peers, even this early in the morning. She’s probably come right from yoga. You wave at her in greeting, but she’s only focused on Jaehyun, practically skipping her way over to tuck herself into his arms. They still haven’t crossed into the dating threshold, but she continues on like they are, in the same way she had since the beginning of senior year, since she’d ended up at Pandora U just like him.</p><p class="p1">Jeno fusses when he sees their embrace, “Ew.”</p><p class="p1">“Ew is right dude,” Jaemin whines in agreement, already forgetting his earlier attempt at wooing you.</p><p class="p1">“They’re cute,” is what comes out of your mouth, but you have absolutely no idea why it does. Or why you spend all of breakfast convincing yourself that’s what you believe.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“How long before the sugary goodness is laid upon us?” Johnny calls from the couch.</p><p class="p1">You check your phone’s timer before you holler back, “Thirty minutes!”</p><p class="p1">“Ugh, make it go faster!”</p><p class="p1">You smile at their obvious temptation, especially when you open the oven to take a peek at your cookies and the wonderful chocolate smell wafts out into the kitchen. You meander over to where the boys are watching a movie, dropping onto the couch beside Yuta, Johnny and Jaehyun across from you with their feet up on the ottoman. At first, you don’t notice it, but then it’s all you can see, their fancy argyle socks punctuated by jarring peeks of their skin underneath. That is… a lot of holes.</p><p class="p1">You grab Johnny’s foot, nearly wrenching him off the couch to examine the damage, “Yo, what the hell is this?! Did you guys put these through a shredder or something?!”</p><p class="p1">He and Jaehyun exchange sheepish glances before trying to bypass your question, “We played a looooot of soccer this semester.”</p><p class="p1">You continue holding John’s ankle, feeling dumb when you ask, “So, you just… left the holes in your socks?”</p><p class="p1">“Usually we throw them away.”</p><p class="p1">“You get a hole and you throw them away…” you repeat, trying to make your mind understand. You let John’s leg drop with a thud, and then stand up with a mission, “You know what, no. I will not allow this to happen.”</p><p class="p1">“What?” Yuta mutters as you go to your bag, rummaging around it for the one thing you always carry with you.</p><p class="p1">You pull out your sewing kit, then proclaim, “I’m going to teach you guys how to sew.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a dead moment of silence, where you look at them looking at you, and then Johnny’s mouth moves, “You’re kidding me.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s literally Christmas Eve,” Yuta protests next, “and this is what you want to do?”</p><p class="p1">“We have thirty minutes to kill and you cannot possibly watch White Chicks another time!” you sigh.</p><p class="p1">“Come on, y/n, don’t be a Beverly Ho-billy.”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, I want to!” Jeno interjects from where he’s watching a video on Mark’s phone, waving his hand in the air.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you, kid, but you’re on timer duty,” you flash him a thumbs up in gratitude, ever your most loyal sidekick. You turn back to chastise your actual friends, “I can’t believe he’s more enthusiastic than you people. You’re young gentlemen, almost twenty, you should know how to sew up holes in your socks. Think about the environment!”</p><p class="p1">It’s seriously appalling, that they would rather contribute to the tragic rise of landfills than take a few seconds to fix up an easily solvable problem. You’re not going to let them get away with this, so you pass out three needles and thread spools before they can protest any further.</p><p class="p1">“My mom taught me how to sew when I was younger than Jeno. You’re not going to be embroidering floral jackets but maybe it’ll help you.” You fix them with your toughest stare, the <em>don’t dare to cross me</em> look they’ve been on the receiving end of many a time. They glance over to Mark, as if he has some reign in helping them get out of them but he shrugs and turns back to his brother, staying out of it. He’s the only who gets a pass, not having his mom around to teach him the important things.</p><p class="p1">When you don’t hear any other pushback, you take out your own thread and needle for them to follow along, “First, cut off a long piece of thread. For you fools, the longer the better.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s what she said,” Yuta jokes, sending the room into peals of laughter.</p><p class="p1">“Yuta,” you bite out harshly, and he falls silent.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, then take your needle, and your piece of thread. Then loop the thread through the tiny hole at the bottom, and tie both the strands into a knot at the end.”</p><p class="p1">In the middle of your demonstration, you catch Yuta’s lurid whisper, “John, this is just like when you—,”</p><p class="p1">“Yuta Nakamoto!” You cut him off before whatever lewdly suggestive material makes its way out of his mouth. “Do not even.”</p><p class="p1">“Oops, sorry.” He’s clearly not, though.</p><p class="p1">You ignore him to reach over and yank off one of Johnny’s socks, finding the most egregious hole in the heel to display the beginning steps, “Gather the two sides of fabric together and poke the needle through both of them. Pull it tight, so the knot catches.”</p><p class="p1">“Loop the needle around, and repeat the stitch going the other way.” The slip of black thread starts to close the rip in the cotton. This is the basic, most fundamental type of stitch, and you take care to go slowly for them to follow along, “Now keep going, the same thing, all the way up the length of the rip.”</p><p class="p1">You deftly weave the needle in and out, continuing to hold the sock up in the air so they can see, “When there is no space left between the two sides, snip the needle off, and tie off your sewing.” You do as you say, tying a strong knot and clipping off the ends, and voila. Good as new.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god, the hole’s gone!” Johnny chirps in delight, as if you’ve just performed magic, even though sewing holes closed is literally the easiest kind of sewing you could do.</p><p class="p1">“Now try it yourselves,” you shoo them away, wanting to see if they’d actually been paying attention or only pretending to.</p><p class="p1">As they tentatively start pulling off your own socks to try it out, you head back into the kitchen and turn on Baekhyun’s latest Christmas album. You take your sweet time re-checking the cookies, switching and flipping the pans so they’re evenly browning. You measure out the powdered sugar you’ll need, the cinnamon you’ll add to the glaze, lining up everything neatly on the counter. When you’re satisfied they’ve had enough time to make some progress, you head back to the lounge area, and peer over Johnny’s shoulder first. His stitches are crooked and a little chunky, but you know they’re decent enough to hold the rip closed when he’s finished.</p><p class="p1">“Honestly, not bad,” you compliment.</p><p class="p1">“I thought this was going to be hard, but it’s not too bad,” he carefully finishes his last stitch, then preens a bit. “Are you proud of me?”</p><p class="p1">“Always am—,” you start, then pick up on something in his friend’s lap. How the heck is he sewing with a needle that’s bent at almost a right angle? “What the hell, Jae! How did you do this?”</p><p class="p1">His hands fly to smack at his forehead. “I don’t know! My hands are too big and those things are too small!”</p><p class="p1">“These aren’t even my needles! I stole them from the tailor here!”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll buy you more! It’ll be my additional Christmas gift!”</p><p class="p1">He’d brought a full bolt of beautiful Spanish fabric home for you in the bottom of his suitcase. After he’d given it to you the day before, you’d carefully nestled the gorgeous silk organza onto a shelf back in your house, the peach color shimmering even when you turned the lights off. The idea of him buying a cheap pack of needles from the drugstore for you on top of that is hilarious.</p><p class="p1">Johnny peeks over and then elbows his buddy, “Yo dude, it’s because you’re holding it all wrong, here, let me.” The two of them bow their heads over their patching as Johnny tries to explain a way that Jaehyun can get around ruining any more of your needles.</p><p class="p1">“Can you check to see if my stitches are straight?” Yuta beckons you over, holding out his attempt at fixing his sock, and you slip over to see how he’s doing. He’s done a better job than either of his friends, which makes sense considering how graceful he is in any action he takes. The thread strands are precisely in line, except for the topmost stitch, which is off its axis only a bit.</p><p class="p1">“They’re pretty good,” you concede, then point out the little flaw you’d noticed, “A bit off here, but with a rip that size it’s often hard.”</p><p class="p1">“Wanna show me how to fix that? Here’s what I’m doing.” He takes the needle in hand again, holding it in a way that would’ve been okay for the beginning set of stitches, but makes it hard to finish things evenly.</p><p class="p1">“You’re going to want to position your hands this way,” you correct, placing your fingers over his to arrange them in a manner that will help him.</p><p class="p1">You feel the bold brush of a thumb against the edge of your index finger, and a sphere of heady warmth pushes its way into your chest. You should remove your hands and scold Yuta for the way he’s being so blatant and public about touching you, but you can’t. His thumb meanders by, lazy, one more time, and you whisper, “Are you doing that on purpose?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s eyes are innocently round when he drops the needle to hold your hand and answer, “Doing what?”</p><p class="p1">You gulp nervously, finally possessing the fortitude to take your fingers back, “You know. Finish your sewing.” You need to get out of his proximity, especially before Jaehyun and Johnny catch you staring at their third friend like you know you are. You really need to stop reacting this way every time Yuta dares to hold your hand.</p><p class="p1">You turn to head back into the kitchen, and are greeted by the sight of Mark, no longer watching cartoons with Jeno on his phone, instead deep in lost thought, chin in his hand as he peers out the bay window.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, what’s wrong?” you lower your voice in caution, not wanting to alert the others. “And don’t lie to me, you didn’t laugh at a single one of Yuta’s awful jokes.”</p><p class="p1">A deep sigh burrows its way out of Mark’s chest, and then he trembles. “Dad’s late.”</p><p class="p1">It’s as if his tremble has directly diffused into you, the tic cropping up in your hands as you see how close to midnight it is without a sign from the VP. But you can’t inflate his worry, “He’s always late when they drive back from Pandora instead of taking the train. The traffic always sucks on Heaven’s Highway.” There’s another part you can’t add on, that Michael always calls when he’s going to be late. And not a single phone has gone off in this household tonight.</p><p class="p1">He glances over to make sure Jeno’s headphones are still in, then continues, “I don’t know. Something feels off.”</p><p class="p1">“Did he say when he was supposed to come back?”</p><p class="p1">“No, but he’s back by no later than eight every time he drives.”</p><p class="p1">“Bee, it’s okay,” you comfort him, though the platitude is meaningless. “Mark. You know there was a bad snowstorm this week in the capital.” The entire northwest part of the nation was hit with severe snowfall, Pandora and most of Elyxion bearing the brunt of the cold brutality. Thankfully, you’d escaped the crippling precipitation, but it’s obviously affected the roadways. At least, that’s what you want to think.</p><p class="p1">Mark’s fingers clench into a fist, and you cover his hand with yours when he mutters, “I know. But I can’t shake it.”</p><p class="p1">Your mind is saved from dipping into other, nefarious explanations for the VP’s absence when the shrill pixelating ringing of your timer jolts you, followed directly by Jeno’s excited yell, “Timer timer timer timer!”</p><p class="p1">“Okay okay okay okay!” you yell back, composing yourself into the carefree girl you’d been five minutes before. “Who wants cookies!”</p><p class="p1">You and Mark can’t stomach a single confection, but the others engorge themselves on your cookies, dusting powdered sugar and cinnamon all over their faces. They promptly start to doze off as White Chicks loops through another replay, and Mark is careful when he lifts his brother’s head off the table where it’d slumped.</p><p class="p1">“Hey bud, you want to go to bed? We still have to read The Night Before Christmas.”</p><p class="p1">“Where’s Dad?” Jeno sleepily mumbles, glancing around for his father. “He usually reads it.”</p><p class="p1">Mark doesn’t break character as he lies smoothly, “He called and said he was delayed. He’ll be back tomorrow, though.” Oof, that is a dangerous route for Mark to take. Making a promise about his father’s return without knowing when it will actually happen could spell certain turmoil for the boy. But hitting him with the blunt truth and watching him spiral in anxiety is equally as bad.</p><p class="p1">Once Mark has hoisted Jeno onto his shoulders in a piggyback, you murmur a plan to him, “You guys sleep together. Make sure Yuta and another guard stay with you, just in case. Tell No it’s a bro sleepover. I’ll stay here tonight instead of going home and wait up.” If this is something more than bad traffic, it’ll be easier to keep track of them in one room than having them spread out all over this huge mansion.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, you don’t have to.”</p><p class="p1">“All nighters are my thing. Don’t worry about it, bumble. He’ll be fine.” Mark and his family has done more than their fair share of watching over you, and you’ll do so in return.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks,” his face softens as he leans in and kisses you on the cheek, a quarter note of tender love. “Merry Christmas.”</p><p class="p1">“Merry Christmas.”</p><p class="p1">He shakes Yuta awake, whispering in his ear, and you send the three of them off with a small wave. As Jaehyun and John slumber away, you let the worry flow freely through you, finally allowing the same uneasy intuition that Mark had voiced to take hold over you. Before you register what you’re doing, you’re pulling something out of your bag and running out to the foyer, where the gigantic Christmas tree is sitting pristinely, gold lights twinkling in the night time.</p><p class="p1">The woman on the other end of your Nokia has never picked up, so it would be dumb of you to call, especially that Michael’s absence is likely due to the weather and not a political clash. But you can’t help it. Out of instinct, your fingers click to her number and you press the phone up to your ear in a way that will leave marks all over your cheek.</p><p class="p1">It rings, rings, ring again, and… No answer.</p><p class="p1">“Who you calling?”</p><p class="p1">You twitch violently at the errant audio intrusion, and turn with device still in hand to see Jaehyun there in the foyer, drowsy and rubbing at his hair.</p><p class="p1">“God, Jae, you scared me,” you mumble, before tucking the phone out of view. “Nobody, they didn’t pick up anyways.”</p><p class="p1">“You need a ride home? I was going to wake John up and head out.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m going to stay here tonight. Stay up for a bit.”</p><p class="p1">His eyes take in the spectacular holiday display, childlike grin tugging at his mouth, “Want that Christmas morning magic?”</p><p class="p1">Yes, that’s what you want. You want to run down from your tiny room in your old house to the one present a year your parents got you. You want to run out of Mark’s room like you had last year, to protest at the extravagant pile of gifts the VP had bought you along with his own children.</p><p class="p1">But that’s not the reality of your situation, “No, um. Michael was due home tonight. But as you can see, he’s not here. Trying not to worry the kid.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is as protective of Jeno as anyone, instantly alert at the realization the VP is nowhere to be found, “Shit. Should I stay?”</p><p class="p1">“No, it’s okay. It’s not like I’m alone,” you nod to the guard that is loitering politely outside the entryway, and he nods back. <em>Ma’am.</em></p><p class="p1">“Should I come back tomorrow?” Jaehyun asks.</p><p class="p1">“No, spend time with your family. You’re going to have to go back to school soon after spending a semester abroad.” Frankly, you’re still shocked Regent Jung allowed his son to spend all of Christmas Eve here. No matter, since you won’t be able to see him tomorrow, you have to do this now.</p><p class="p1">“That reminds me, I should give you John’s gift.” You kneel down and pluck out the modest packages you’d wrapped in green tissue and adorned with fresh poinsettias, handing them over, “You two can open those together.”</p><p class="p1">You almost leave it at that, fretfulness staring to crop up in pointed patches across your skin. But you can’t, you can’t leave it, so you delicately snake your arm under the fragrant branches, to pull out the large parcel you’d hidden away in a quiet moment.</p><p class="p1">“But this is just for you,” you tell Jaehyun as you pass it off, “It’s your Christmas and birthday gift, okay?”</p><p class="p1">He pouts despite being adorned with treasures, “That is no fair. The other three get two presents! You can’t say it’s because my birthday is kind of close to Christmas, because John’s is too!”</p><p class="p1">“You’ll still get two gifts, chill. But this… is something different I wanted to try. So don’t show the others.”</p><p class="p1">“Oooh, a secret?” He lifts a curious eyebrow, caught up in the mystery of it all. “Can I open it now?”</p><p class="p1">“If you want.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no stopping his eager hands from ripping apart your careful wrapping in an ungainly matter, too excited to see what’s inside. But the moment his fingers brush against the slip of silk within, it’s like all the breath has been sucked right out of him, “I thought you said you weren’t ever going to do personal orders.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve never forgotten you were the first,” you murmur, thinking of his silvery voice coiled in your ear, <em>when the orders come pouring in, remember that I was first</em>. “It’s not like you count, anyways.”</p><p class="p1">He drops the other packages, the discarded wrapping paper, and seemingly all his inhibitions when he pulls out the dress shirt, holding it out in front of his face to gaze at your work in awe.</p><p class="p1">The obsidian silk is illuminated by the glow of the Christmas tree, liquid and seductive. One growling lion, embroidered in the fervent golden silk thread, extends down from the left shoulder over the breast pocket. A twin predator howls up at its partner from the bottom right corner of the garment. He turns it over to see the back, the roaring lion spread across the breadth of the fabric in a majestic display.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” Jaehyun breathes out, “How long did it take you to make this?”</p><p class="p1">An embarrassing amount of time. Time better spent taking proper care to make the rest of your gifts instead of rushing to finish, or suitably studying for your finals.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t tell you that, otherwise you’d try to give it back. More than I should have,” you admit.</p><p class="p1">You hold out your hand in preparation for him to try and return it, but instead he lifts at the hem of his Pandora U sweatshirt and starts to pull it over his head. You whip your gaze away the moment his bare skin comes into view, gasping in indignation, “Jaehyun, what the hell!”</p><p class="p1">You can’t see it, but the teasing grin that’s surely on his face comes out in his tone, “Well, I’ve got to put it on.” There’s the rustle of fabric, and then, “How do I look?”</p><p class="p1">Don’t look and lie, y/n, don’t look and lie! Too late.</p><p class="p1">You’d guessed haphazardly at his size, extrapolating from Mark’s clothes, but the shirt itself fits him perfectly, melding against his frame in a very enticing way. You’re not even going to mention the fact that he’s left half the buttons open. But you’ve outdone yourself again, each time his shoulder moves you can practically hear the snarling roar of the lion, the dignified representation of his high-class aura. The thread you’d picked even matches his hair.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t answer without,” you begin, fully intending to say <em>without looking like a fool</em>, but going with, “inflating my own ego.”</p><p class="p1">This is the strangest of strange moments, alone with Jaehyun in the quiet foyer of the Lee mansion, the security guard clearly resisting the urge to eavesdrop on your conversation. What is left to be said? You wish someone else was here, or that something will slice through the strange tension that blooms. He does it himself, feeling the buzz of his phone and checking it. “I have to go. Dad’s already called me three times,” he explains, slipping his phone back in his pants so he can reach out to hug you, “Thanks.”</p><p class="p1">You sidestep his attempt at an embrace as fast as you can, the amount of nervousness you feel at a level unable to be calculated. Holy shit. That had been close.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t,” you whisper, pointing a shy finger towards the ceiling, “Jeno put mistletoe up there on purpose.”</p><p class="p1">You’re fairly confident the kid had done so in an attempt to catch you with one of his brother’s friends. He’d succeeded with the most unsuspecting one, the holly berry twinge already crossing Jaehyun’s cheeks at what he’d almost done.</p><p class="p1">To be caught under the mistletoe with John or Yuta is expected, their attempts at flirtation with you are both blatant and refined, respectively.It wouldn’t even be that weird to be caught here with Mark, as abounding as the speculation is about the pair of you. But this is Jaehyun, the neighbor boy with the dimpled smile, your relationship defined only by the simple kindness he extends to you, nothing else.</p><p class="p1">So you should go over there,” you point to past the threshold, then point at your feet, “and I’m gonna stay here.”</p><p class="p1">He takes a pointed step back, out of the danger zone, causing both of you to laugh softly. That distance is better, feels less suffocating.</p><p class="p1">“Merry Christmas, y/n.”</p><p class="p1">“Merry Christmas, Jae.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Mark finds you at ten the next morning, aimlessly flipping through channels in the kitchen lounge, where you’d stayed all night. “Anything?”</p><p class="p1">“No. Nothing. I asked Heechul if he’d heard anything and nothing, either.” If the Lee head of household didn’t have information, then you two were truly up the river without a paddle. Even your scroll through the TV channels led to empty conclusions.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck,” Mark curses, lack of sleep evident in the bags under his eyes. “You should sleep. I’m going to stall as much as I can.”</p><p class="p1">You know that the moment Jeno has a second to contemplate what’s happening, he’s going to figure out you two have been lying to him. He’s twelve, not dumb.</p><p class="p1">You come up with a plot to distract the kid quickly, “Take him out for practice at the field downtown. He really does need to work on his fielding. I’ll be up by the time you get up, we can open presents while Felix cooks.” Hopefully if you don’t give Jeno that second to contemplate, Michael will manage to return in time.</p><p class="p1">“And if Dad doesn’t come home by tonight, we’ll tell him,” Mark concedes, in acknowledgment of the fact you can’t do this forever.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. He’s old enough that we can’t keep lying for much longer.”</p><p class="p1">“God, I hate this.”</p><p class="p1">“I know,” you hug him tightly, trying to imbue him with enough care that he feels alright. “Take Yuta and a handful of guards with you — I don’t want to jump the gun but you never know. Come right back and send Yu home so he can celebrate with his family.”</p><p class="p1">“Will do. Thanks.”</p><p class="p1">Mark scurries away to put the plan into action and that is when the fresh wave of exhaustion hits you. You’ve been awake for twenty six hours at that point, a huge chunk of time preoccupied with trying to suss out the VP’s whereabouts. You don’t even bother to shuffle back to your old guest bedroom, tired as you are, dropping into unconsciousness as soon as your head leans back against the lounge couch.</p><p class="p1">But you’re afforded no restful slumber, because your dreams are punctuated by visions doused in nuisance, actually beyond nuisance, more like sheer terror. They’re not dreams, they’re full on nightmares. Of Michael wasting away in the snow, clothes torn to shreds, body blackening with frostbite. Of the last time you’d seen your parents, the morning you’d gone to the market, only their faces are covered in blood and ugly scars. The worst of all are the ones that bring about the discovery of five corpses, when you're tasked with the horrifying chore of unveiling the faces of your closest friends, grotesquely stiff with rigor mortis in their demise.</p><p class="p1">You jolt up with a terrified scream to the sound of the TV blaring, on the news channel you’d left it on, <em>Breaking news coming into us now, many parts of Elyxion are now totally crippled by severe power outages as a result of the snow. </em>You press a heavy hand to your chest at the sensation of your heart racing, only turning when you hear the polite, “Ma’am. Ma’am.” You wipe at your eyes blearily to see the Lee family head chef already at work with his team, beginning preparations for the elaborate feast planned for tonight.</p><p class="p1">Felix does his best to pretend he hadn’t heard your outburst and asks, “Are we continuing on with Christmas dinner as usual?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, please do.”</p><p class="p1">“But the master is…” he trails off, clearly noticing the absence of the family patriarch.</p><p class="p1">You sigh, “As usual, Felix. Thank you.” You really need to get rid of this horrid feeling, to compose yourself before Mark and Jeno come b—</p><p class="p1">“Merry Christmas,” Mark's upbeat voice rings out as his brother's does the same, “Merry Christmas!” You glance at the clock, seeing it’s well past three. They’re here and still no sign of the VP. Mark ruffles Jeno’s hair with pride, “Only two errors today! And we tweaked that fastball, huh, bud?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know why we’re doing drills on Christmas….” Jeno mutters.</p><p class="p1">“Should we open presents, then?”<span class="Apple-converted-space">  y</span>ou interrupt with false cheeriness, getting up and pushing them out of the kitchen so Felix won’t say anything. “You two bring them into the living room!”</p><p class="p1">Mark catches on to what you’re doing, taking his brother down the hallway to the tree in the foyer before he can start stirring up a fuss.</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” Yuta greets quietly when you follow behind them.</p><p class="p1">You smile when you see him waiting there for you, and reach out to squeeze his shoulder, “Hey, you should go home.”</p><p class="p1">“But—,”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, no. Go home.” you insist, before handing him a third package identical to the ones you’d given Jaehyun yesterday. “This is for you.”</p><p class="p1">“And this is for you. Merry Christmas, y/n.” Yuta smoothly pulls out a small box from the pocket of his sweatpants for you, all suaveness lost when he kisses you on the cheek and literally sprints away.</p><p class="p1">What an idiot.</p><p class="p1">You open the box as you walk over to the first floor living room, heart thrumming when you see the delicate golden bracelet inside, complete with a charm of a daisy, the flower he’d gotten you in your prom corsage. You think again, full of fondness, <em>what an idiot.</em></p><p class="p1">Mark and Jeno are waiting for you by the time you make it over, three neat stacks of presents divvied up. Mark smacks the one next to him and huffs, “Why are these so hefty, I thought we agreed nothing big this year?”</p><p class="p1">You drape yourself over the velvet chaise, then shrug it off, “It’s not too much, it just looks like it is. Go ahead, start with those.”</p><p class="p1">The brothers tear into their presents with the same amount of glee, the wrapping paper flying everywhere in their haste to reveal what you’d gotten them. You’d picked up your heavy duty needles to embroider the front of these classy leather backpacks with the Lee sigil, and monograms of their initials inconspicuously sitting in the corner. You’d never worked with leather before, but you have to admit, you’re pretty proud of how they turned out.</p><p class="p1">“Holy <em>shit</em>, these are so cool,” Mark gawks as his brother silently takes his in, “You didn’t have to buy us anything.”</p><p class="p1">“I already make all your clothes. It would be cliché for me to also do that the second Christmas in a row.” You nod a sly head towards the smaller remaining packages, “Except for those.”</p><p class="p1">They put down their bags to again rip into the festive paper, unveiling a pair of black ties. But they’re not only black ties; at the widest apex of the cloth, you’ve sewed an imperious and cocky eagle’s outline, wings spread in superiority.</p><p class="p1">“Yoooooo these are cool as fuck!” Mark again doesn’t even bother to censor himself in front of the kid, excited as he is at your gift.</p><p class="p1">You show them the picture you’d taken after you’d completed the five neckties, “I made a matching set, because you guys are a matching set. Johnny got a bat, Yuta a deer, Jaehyun a lion. You two get eagles, the Lee family symbol.”</p><p class="p1">Jeno pipes up for the first time since opening your presents, utterly pleased to be included, “Does this mean I’m one of the bros now? Thank you!”</p><p class="p1">“Nice try, but no,” Mark shoots down his brother, before climbing onto your chair’s arm to hug you, “Thank you so much, bee. These are amazing.”</p><p class="p1">Each strand you’d used to craft their ties is spun through with pure happiness, at the sight of them doing up the ties over their athletic tees, Mark leaning over to help Jeno with his. When he sits back, there’s two envelopes in his hand that he gives to you, “This is a two part, tandem gift.”</p><p class="p1">There’s one in blue, and one in orange, and Jeno directs you, “Mine first! The blue one!” Of course you can’t say no to his demand. You carefully tear open the paper and a smooth packet of something falls out into your lap.</p><p class="p1">“Bluebell seeds?” you gasp, tears immediately pricking at your eyes when you read the text printed on the envelope. “Oh my gosh.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not there in the mansion anymore. You’re back in the comforting wilderness, feeling the ticklish grass underneath your bare feet as you stand outside and watch your father water the beautiful blue flowers on the side of your house. “These grew right outside of my house. How’d you know?”</p><p class="p1">“It was my idea! I searched up what flowers grew around Zero Mile, and Mark helped me order these,” Jeno explains, perfectly peachy that you’re this touched. Tactix and Zero Mile are in such close proximity they share a lot of the same fauna, and he’d hit it right on the nose. “Are they your seed?”</p><p class="p1">“Jeno!” Mark hisses, knowing the question is exceedingly personal.</p><p class="p1">You haven’t bothered to find out the identity of the seed resting within the envelope stashed under your sock drawer, even though you were already old enough to when you’d arrived in Neozone. You haven’t thought much about it, either, but now that you’re forced to, these seeds are too big. It would’ve been perfectly lovely if your seed ended up bringing forth bluebells during your blossom ceremony.</p><p class="p1">You answer his question anyways, figuring it’s mostly harmless information you’re giving them, “No, they’re not. I love it guys, thank you so much.”</p><p class="p1">Mark nudges your side, “Open the other envelope, that was all me.”</p><p class="p1">You do so, pulling out a thin sheet of paper that you squint to read, “A voucher for one photo session with I.M. this week?” The famed Neozone photographer is so busy people often book a session with him years in advance, but you’re unsure as to why Mark has given you this. “He’s amazing, but I already got my headshots done at school.”</p><p class="p1">“No, it’s not for headshots. We thought that… well…” Mark trails off, suddenly unsure of what he’s about to say, and allows Jeno to complete the end of it, “We thought we could get our family portraits taken!”</p><p class="p1">An emotion that you can’t place claws at your throat, “Oh.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t know what it is, but Mark takes it as disapproval and hurries to detail his thought process, “I mean, the last ones we took were with Mom, and we’re never going to forget them. But. It’s been so long. Wouldn’t it make sense to have some with you?”</p><p class="p1">Their family portrait sits in the entryway of the mansion when you walk in, child Mark and toddler Jeno smiling brightly in front of their happy parents, the only remembrance left of the time they’d been a completed family unit. In the time you’ve been around, you can count on one hand the number of times they’ve brought up their absent mother, but it’s clear she’s been memorialized privately in their hearts. It’s not your place to pry about it.</p><p class="p1">Jeno, ever the intuitive little bean, adds on, “And like, we’re not replacing your real family! Just taking pics with the adopted one!”</p><p class="p1">You can’t believe Mark was thoughtful enough to gift this to you. It’s too perfect. He’s too perfect. That emotion you’d felt before? Sheer gratitude. You pull Jeno over so you can hug both of them at the same time, eyes glassy, “I can’t wait for this. Thank you so much, guys.”</p><p class="p1">“Told you she’d like that one better,” Mark whispers to his brother in teasing. Jeno huffs in annoyance to lose out to Mark, but you cherish both of their gifts equally.</p><p class="p1">“What do we have left?” you ask once you’ve composed yourself, then spot the small pile of separate presents. “Oh, these!”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, no!” Jeno stops you before you can pick one up. “Those are from Dad! Shouldn’t we wait?”</p><p class="p1">Oh shit. You can’t go there, not after the day’s work you’d put in. Mark attempts to divert his attention in a hurry, “Who’s hungry, then? Should we eat?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I’m starving right now! You should go wash up!” you play along.</p><p class="p1">But both of you severely underestimate Jeno’s sharp mind, the even sharper glare he sends when he sees right through your identical façades, “Okay, you two aren’t my parents no matter how much you act like you’re married! Where’s Dad?” The second the last d in Dad leaves Jeno’s mouth is the second that cold dread from before comes billowing back. The three of you could laugh and be merry all you want, but none of it changes the fact that you still have not heard from Michael.</p><p class="p1">You glance at Mark, panicked, and that gives you both away, Jeno immediately questioning, “Mark? Mark?” and when his brother doesn’t answer, turning to you, “Y/n? What’s going on?”</p><p class="p1">“Jeno, we should—," you attempt, totally lost as to how you can even begin to explain this. But before you fumble through an excuse, there’s a cheery cry from the door.</p><p class="p1">“Merry Christmas everyone!”</p><p class="p1">It’s the Vice Premier, looking disheveled and exhausted, but it’s him, and he’s here.</p><p class="p1">“Dad!” Jeno and Mark shout at the same time, both of them running over to hug their father. He sandwiches himself in between his two sons, eyes closing in relief as he clutches at their shoulders.</p><p class="p1">Michael shifts to the left and you see that his assistant is hovering nervously,“Sir, sir,” he keeps his voice hushed, but you pick up on the urgency, “You should get on the call!”</p><p class="p1">“I will see my children first, Yunho, and not a moment later,” Michael replies evenly as he leans forward to hug you as well. “Hi kiddos, sorry I’m so late.”</p><p class="p1">“Are you okay?” you ask as soon as you can.</p><p class="p1">His eyes dart back to Yunho for a second, a gesture that the boys miss but you catch, yet he answers in the affirmative, “Yeah, the snowstorm kept us in Pandora for longer than we wanted. So sorry for not calling, but everything was such a mess I barely had time to pee let alone call.”</p><p class="p1">His breezy nonchalance belies his appearance but Jeno and Mark eat it all up, with the younger boy happily chirping, “I’m so glad you’re here, Daddy! Now we can open his presents!”</p><p class="p1">“That has to wait, buddy.”</p><p class="p1">“Dad?”</p><p class="p1">“We need to clean the house,” Michael lets out a breath loaded with fatigue, then reveals, “Premier Kim will be visiting tomorrow.”</p><p class="p1">Nausea takes over your body. “What?!”</p><p class="p1">“He what?!” Mark whoops in confusion. “It’s Christmas!”</p><p class="p1">“It’s well known the Premier is not married and does not have any extended family. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure the reasons behind his visit. But he will be here, just for the day.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t like this, you don’t like it at all. Mark had every right to be worried, with his father showing up late, now bringing about a surprise visit from the Premier. This is the first time he’s been back to the region since he ascended to the title, and the timing is nothing short of bizarre. It’s not suspicious in a particularly heinous way, but it does make you uncomfortable.</p><p class="p1">“Sir, the phone call,” Yunho more urgently presses Michael this time.</p><p class="p1">“Can you guys wait just a bit?” He asks as he taps Jeno’s cheek with his finger. “We can eat first and then clean. I think I smell Felix’s orange turkey.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah! I’ll stop Mark from eating it all,” Jeno accepts the offering, tugging his brother out of the room in excitement. “Let’s go, Marky.”</p><p class="p1">The VP must think you’ve gone with his sons and immediately starts taking off his coat.A bit of his blazer goes as well, giving you a clear look at his shirt underneath. It should be nothing, the seam by his left shoulder that’s completely ripped open. But the peek of skin underneath is hued with a shadow, a shadow that you only see for a second before he’s fixing his blazer back into place.</p><p class="p1">When he sees that you’re still there, he lightly shoos you away, “Go eat with the boys, y/n. It’ll only be a second.”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, Michael, your shirt…” you start, and he and his assistant both totally freeze up.</p><p class="p1">Huh. That’s odd.</p><p class="p1">“Tore it by accident when I was getting out of the car,” he mutters, fingers involuntarily brushing the spot you’d glimpsed. “We can just throw this one away, you don’t have to fix it, don’t worry.”</p><p class="p1">He might be able to throw away the garment, but you won’t be able to throw away the subconscious connections your mind forms, to stop connecting that spot you’d seen with the nightmare you’d had, his body blackened with frostbite.</p><p class="p1">You can’t help the worry that comes.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u for reading! xo! more to come soon ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. convallaria majalis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>If you were holding one of Mark’s glasses of wine, it would’ve already shattered to the ground in a thousand pieces, sending the crimson liquid everywhere in an appalling tableau. Because the person who’d asked you about the jackets is not one of your friends, but the Premier himself.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Hey, I’m here! So is Winwin!”</p><p class="p1">You swing your head up from where you’re digging through your closet to yell down the stairs to Jaehyun, “I’m trying to find shoes! Do not come up here!”</p><p class="p1">“I wasn’t going to!” he calls back up, knowing that your room is specifically off-limits to anyone but you. “You ready?” he then asks, an unnecessary query that launches you into a cross-floor shouted conversation.</p><p class="p1">“Not yet, I told you I was still looking for shoes!” You find the black pumps, tossed in the back of the storage space behind your navy spare pillow.</p><p class="p1">“No, I meant like… emotionally.”</p><p class="p1">“Not really, but do I have a choice?” The rest of yesterday night had been plagued by visions melding Premier Kim’s imposing face with the dark shadow on Michael’s shoulder, those images turned the Christmas feast to ash in your mouth and ruined the rest of holiday. Also, it’s not like you can get out of meeting the literal head of the nation.</p><p class="p1">“I know, right. Thank god I met him when I was just a kid. Meeting him now would be so much worse," he says, the words doing little to comfort you.</p><p class="p1">You emerge at the top of the stairs to bite out a “Thanks, dude,” in reply and are treated with the image of Jaehyun buttoning up the front of his grey suit. The gesture highlights the tie he’s chosen to loop around his neck, black with a roaring lion’s head. You rush down the stairs and nearly choke him when you pull on the tie to closely look at it, “Why are you wearing this?”</p><p class="p1">“I thought Premier Kim wouldn’t want to look like trash when I showed up in that shirt you made, so I went with only the tie,” he explains himself, cocky and proud to show off your gift before he sets upon you, “Why are you wearing <em>that</em>?”</p><p class="p1">The only dress in your closet is the aqua, poofy mess you’d worn to prom, and you’re certainly not showing up in it. You’d thought the plain black suit you’ve chosen was appropriate and refined, is it not? “It’s all I have! I don’t really have much reason to wear a ton of fancy clothes!”</p><p class="p1">He tries to hide his laugh with his hand but teases you all the same, “You look like you’re going to be standing in line with Yuta and John.”</p><p class="p1">“Shut up?”</p><p class="p1">“At least wear your hair down.” His fingers dart out for the pin you use every day without fail to keep your bun up, and you dodge it.</p><p class="p1">“No! Come on!” you protest, but he is unrelenting, jokingly riling you up before you feel obliged to yank the pin out and send your hair cascading all over the place in its ponytail, “Ugh, fine. Is that better?”</p><p class="p1">“Not totally atrocious,” he quips.</p><p class="p1">“Let me do this, then.” You make a big show of stomping over to your windowsill and plucking out a bunch of tiny white flowers from the vase you’d put them in this morning. You stick them behind your left ear with a pin and sarcastically ask, “Better?!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s melodious laugh comes pealing out again, “Those are weeds.”</p><p class="p1">“They’re not weeds, they’re stellaria. They’re pretty and they’re always in bloom, so leave me alone,” you huff, snatching up your purse and continuing your stomping to the exit, fully prepared to leave him behind in your house and make him walk. How dare he insult the little flowers that are permanently present in your backyard?</p><p class="p1">But Jaehyun runs to follow you out the door, catching you around the wrist before you can get in the car, voice light when he clarifies, “I didn’t say it looked worse.” You add onto your performance of false anger by snatching your hand out of his grasp and getting into the car, done with haste so to mask whatever else that touch had inspired.</p><p class="p1">“I really have no idea what to expect,” Jaehyun muses as he watches the town go by through his window. “Dad is definitely losing his shit — they go way back, you know, they met when they were in high school. He got us up at five to get ready and I literally left to come here and sleep.”</p><p class="p1">It makes sense that the two men most fervently proud of being from Neozone are pals, but the thought only accentuates your discomfort. “Should we not talk about this until we’re forced to talk about it for the next two days straight?”</p><p class="p1">“What would you like to talk about then, Ms. Bossy?”</p><p class="p1">If you’re uncomfortable, he has to be too, so you toss it right at him, “You and Mimi, huh?”  The subject of the pair of them hadn’t been brought up since you’d finished breakfast at Bomb’s Away, and you’re dying to know what exactly’s going on.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s lips purse with displeasure. Bingo. “Me and Mimi what? That’s nothing.”</p><p class="p1">“John’s comment on Thursday says otherwise.”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">You smile at him knowingly, waggling your eyebrows in jest, “Who else could be the Neozone girl you’re staying loyal to? Unless it’s one of her friends you’re talking about.”</p><p class="p1">Winwin pulls up in front of the mansion, skipping right to the head of the line by virtue of the Lee insignia on his plates and Jaehyun literally bolts out of the door to avoid answering your question. That’s all he needs to do to inadvertently answer your question, that Mimi is indeed the most likely the girl John had been talking about.</p><p class="p1">You can’t wait to tease him about this, you’re going to start now, “You can’t hide anything from me, dude.”</p><p class="p1">“And you should trust me when I say that’s not what this is,” he grumbles when he holds the door open for you, but it’s too late. You’re convinced of it.</p><p class="p1">The conversation dies once you’re both inside the walls of the Lee mansion. The halls have always been opulent, stately and classy, but whatever the workers had done overnight has completely transformed it. There are chairs everywhere, triple the amount of tulips stuffed into the vases. Banners cover the walls, pure white with either the slate black of the Premier’s personal insignia of a bear on its hind legs in front of a chrysanthemum bush or the fluorescent chartreuse of the geometric Dorado flag, and there is an absolute whirlwind of humans bustling around. </p><p class="p1">“Okay, wow,” you breathe out, totally overwhelmed, and you catch Jaehyun’s nod of agreement.</p><p class="p1">Heechul is directing it all, standing at the front of the room barking out instructions, and Jeno is plastered to his side, anxiously watching all the activity.</p><p class="p1">You walk over to him and put the flowers from your hair into his jacket pocket, hoping it will ease his anxiety. “These are for you, kiddo,” you say, smiling when you notice the shiny eagle on the silk around his neck. “Nice tie. Where’d you get it from?”</p><p class="p1">Mark and Yuta come in next, golden eagle proudly soaring on Mark’s torso, and docile deer sparkling under Yuta’s uniform. You wonder out loud, “Wait, did they all wear it today? Where’s John?”</p><p class="p1">“Who’s asking about my son?”</p><p class="p1">Jeno’s face blanches as you turn and see the very severe General Suh, his eyes boring in your direction. You incline your head out of respect and greet him, “General. Very lovely to finally meet you.”</p><p class="p1">His eyes narrow, not recalling you from the handful of times you’d been to Johnny’s house, “Who are you again?”</p><p class="p1">“One of Michael’s strays,” Regent Jung drawls as he walks by.</p><p class="p1">That is unchanged, Jaehyun’s father’s continuing distaste for you, so much to the point that you avoid going to Jaehyun’s childhood home when he invites you over. Everyone in the city loves him, your friends included, because he is nothing but fatherly and kind with them. But no matter how differently his son treats you, he’s never warmed to your presence.</p><p class="p1">“Dad,” Jaehyun starts to gripe, but his father leads him away before you can catch the rest of his defense.</p><p class="p1">Johnny materializes out of nowhere, regally handsome in his uniform and peaked cap, jacket buttoned over his tie, but you see the wink of golden thread flashing through the bottom. The general harshly grasps at his son’s shoulders though he’s half a foot shorter, and wrenches him upright,“John, stand straight. Be proud that you were <em>actually</em> selected to be in this position and represent your family well.”</p><p class="p1">The military recruits who live in the base downtown make up the majority of the security details for Mr. Lee and other officials of the town. But all of the high ranking military official’s sons have positions like Johnny and Yuta, as escorts to the sons of the upper echelon of Neozone, positions they’ve held since they were sixteen. It’s become clear to you through your time here that the general’s prestige is what led John to his lofty job, that his father holds him to an impossibly high standard. You feel grateful that the VP is not like that with either of his sons.</p><p class="p1">“Nervous, huh?” Mark whispers as he steps in front of you, to stand close to his father’s right arm.</p><p class="p1">You lock eyes with Yuta, who cringes a bit, then ask, “Should I not be?”</p><p class="p1">“No, you absolutely should be," Mark confirms. "I thought I was intimidated when I met him while he was still a Regent for the Neozone territories in Pandora. But when I met him again at the ascension ceremony I almost pissed my pants.” Yuta holds back a snicker at the uncouth comment and Michael's mouth even twitches in amusement when he overhears.</p><p class="p1">But there’s no more time for merriment, because the majordomo enters and promptly announces, “Everyone rise.”</p><p class="p1">Then, you’re watching Premier Kim walk in.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You though he’d come off as this domineering, terrifying giant based on everyone’s stories, but he’s not as bad as you’d imagined. He carries himself with an enormously powerful aura, somehow coming off as untouchable yet friendly. The smile affixed to his face is an effortless one, one borne out of years of polished practice, a true politician’s smile. Everyone in the room is immediately affected by his presence, entranced into rigid respect. </span>
</p><p class="p1">He’s accompanied by a stunning blonde woman, the platinum pull of her bun highlighting the delicate features arranged on her serene face. You remember Michael saying that Premier Kim doesn’t have a family, so who could she possibly be? None of the rest of his staff is walking that closely with him.</p><p class="p1">You elbow Mark in the side and whisper, “Who is that? His wife?”</p><p class="p1">“Nah,” he whispers back, “That’s Taeyeon Kim, his Chief of Ministers. Basically his assistant like Yunho is for Dad. They’re really close.”</p><p class="p1">You nod your head in awe, thinking of how inspiring it is to see a woman in that position of power. She seems to be the quintessential culmination of poise, strength, and beauty, her calming aura radiates out into the room from behind the man she works for. Plus, she does it all while looking utterly fabulous in her white pantsuit and thin silver charm necklace, a dig you'll have to throw in Jaehyun's face later for making fun of your outfit.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you, thank you. At ease, all,” Premier Kim waves his hands affably to get people to relax, going down the line one by one to shake everyone’s hands, whether they’re an official or an employee of the family. When he gets to Jaehyun’s father, Premier Kim’s face splits into a handsome grin, “Jefferson Jung! Always good to see you!</p><p class="p1">“Sir,” Regent Jung takes the Premier’s hand and shakes it, then pulls him into a hug, revealing their familiarity with each other. “It’s a pleasure to have you back here.”</p><p class="p1">The Premier shakes hands with Jaehyun and with John, then salutes Lt. General Nakamato and General Suh, the three of them well acquainted with each other as a result of the region’s recent uptick in military posturing against Elyxion. A strong handshake for Yuta, and another for Mark, and even one extended to Jeno, with a fond hair ruffle.</p><p class="p1">But when the Premier faces his Vice Premier, the man who he works more closely with than anyone else, all Mark’s father gets is a short handshake and an even curter, “Michael.”</p><p class="p1">Michael takes the gesture with composed friendliness, masking the frosty liaison as best as he can, “Well, should we get things started? This way to the main dining room, gentlemen.”</p><p class="p1">The two men bristle beside each other as your friends’ fathers plus the other dignitaries form a crowd, with Heechul at the front to lead them off towards where they’ll be having drinks. Are you the only one that’s seeing this right now? Is anyone else feeling as awkward as you? </p><p class="p1">“Oof,” Mark lets out a low rush of air the moment the adults are out of the room.</p><p class="p1">“Holy shit,” you mutter, wanting the conversation to be only between the two of you. “Was that frosty to you?”</p><p class="p1">Mark nods, confirming your suspicions that something had felt off during the two leaders’ interaction. “That was so weird. They’re not usually like that.”</p><p class="p1">“This whole thing is so weird. Better keep that one entertained so he doesn’t start asking questions,” you subtly tilt your head over to where Jeno is standing on his tiptoes to try and watch the Premier walk away with his father.</p><p class="p1">And entertain Jeno is what you do, for more than three hours as the adults continue their assemblage. You keep winter baseball on until he gets bored, and then flip on some basketball instead. John, Jaehyun, and Yuta are content to keep the kid company while you and Mark gulp down glass after glass of water with your nervous energy.</p><p class="p1">Nervous energy that must be palpable, because when Doyoung and the crew show up for the social hour, he immediately comments, “Boy, is it tense in here.”</p><p class="p1">You pound fists with your friend and offer him up the dregs of your glass, “You missed the worst of it, dude.”</p><p class="p1">“This is better? God damn,” Haechan shakes his head, not believing that this is actually less tense than it had been before.</p><p class="p1">Lucas tries to tiptoe out into the hallway, to pick up any kind of hint that the meeting is coming to a close, but he’s met with the blustering intimidation of the Pandora guards, and comes back with nothing. “They’ve been in there since?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, and social hour is supposed to start in fifteen minutes.”</p><p class="p1">“Maybe they won’t notice if we get started first.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s my house, the bar’s always open,” Mark takes the bottles he’d stashed in the kitchen cabinet out and pulls out a set of glasses to pour his buddies wine. He turns to you, “You want?”</p><p class="p1">“Nah, I’m good.” You’re preoccupied watching Minho Choi make a layup when a female head blocks your view, standing right in front of the couch. It’s Mimi, here with Binnie and the rest of her family, on the guest list due to her father’s status as the owner of Neozone’s most prolific steel mill. </p><p class="p1">“Hyunie, I have a tie you can wear to match—,” she begins, pulling out from her purse a strip of silk in a dark lilac that matches her dress, then sees he’s already wearing a tie. She snatches up the one that he has on, eyes narrowing at the sight of the lion, “Wait, what’s this? Jaehyun, what is this?” She doesn’t have to ask, because there’s only one person in all of Neozone that could’ve sewed that for him. It’s unfortunate for you that the three boys are sitting in a row on the couch, in a way that shows off the personalizations you’d made for each of them.</p><p class="p1">Mimi must be so flabbergasted that her sister has to ask you the question, “You made them all ties?”</p><p class="p1">“For Christmas, yes.”</p><p class="p1">“I thought you said you weren’t ever taking requests from people who weren’t in your family," Binnie gripes, while sharing the same less than pleased look with her sister. "How many times have we asked?!”</p><p class="p1">You hate this feeling, the feeling of all eyes on you, the same way you’d ultimately hated it when they’d all cornered you on the day of the ascension ceremony. “It wasn’t a request, it was a gift.” Mimi, Doyoung, all of them, are your friends. But Mark, Yuta, John, Jaehyun? They’re more than that to you.</p><p class="p1">“If you started a business, we could advertise it on the show,” Doyoung tries to plug his newly successful radio broadcast in an attempt to get you to cave, “you’d make so much money.”</p><p class="p1">“She doesn’t have to start a business, dummy. But we’re your friends too, you can make us something,” Haechan pleads cutely, and out of all of them, you’re most inclined to take his pleas as genuine interest and not self-promotion, “Come onnn just one little thing, it doesn’t have to be a jacket—,”</p><p class="p1">“You were the one who sewed those jackets?”</p><p class="p1">If you were holding one of Mark’s glasses of wine, it would’ve already shattered to the ground in a thousand pieces, sending the crimson liquid everywhere in an appalling tableau. Because the person who’d asked you about the jackets is not one of your friends, but the Premier himself. He's standing in the doorway to the lounge, questioning gaze boring right into you, with the parents and bigwigs behind him all watching this go down. Even Taeyeon’s serene face does nothing to quell the rush of tension into the room, every single one of your friends is frozen in fear, not daring to breathe.</p><p class="p1">You straighten up to your full height, outward confidence not projecting any of the extreme fright you actually feel. From behind the Premier’s shoulder you catch the tiniest shake of Michael’s head, <em>don’t lie. </em>You bow your head respectfully, “Yes, sir.”</p><p class="p1">“I was under the impression you were just a guest of the family at the time,” Premier Kim takes a step forward, and no matter how friendly he’d seemed before, he is completely intimidating now. “But I’ve seen your picture on Michael’s desk in the Pandora Building.”</p><p class="p1">You know the photo well, a picture of you, Mark, and Jeno on your high school graduation, in a metal frame you’d gotten Michael for his birthday. “Yes. My name is y/n.”</p><p class="p1">“And what was your reasoning, y/n, for making jackets that extravagant?”</p><p class="p1">In that moment, all you can think of is how Doyoung had laughed during the ceremony, <em>the Premier must be pissed, his suit looks like hot garbage in comparison. </em>Have you committed some kind of egregious sin by daring to dress Michael up in the finery you’d designed? There’s no logical way to explain your thought process, especially about something as personal as his wife’s flower. You string together an excuse in a puffed up series of words you hope comes across as dignified, “I only attempted to promote the prestige of our metropolis.”</p><p class="p1">That catches the Premier’s attention, and he emphasizes, “<em>Our</em> metropolis?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m from Neozone, sir. Have my flower seed and everything. Zero Mile is where I grew up.”</p><p class="p1">“Where in Zero Mile are you from?”</p><p class="p1">Fuck, you hadn’t even realized there were specific delimitations in Zero Mile you should know.Nobody ever asked for you to clarify. You glance back at Michael, whose eyes are blown wide in surprise, and you patch together an incomplete truth, “I’m not sure of the region sir. My house was in the middle of a forest, surrounded by bluebells.” You’ll have to thank Jeno for that one later.</p><p class="p1">Though he takes your answer as acceptable, he bombards you with another question, “Where’d you learn how to sew?" And now you're somehow entangled in a careful back and forth with the most powerful man in the nation.</p><p class="p1">“My mother, sir. She made all of my and my father’s clothes."</p><p class="p1">You silently pray for their strength to guide you as he continues to probe, “And where are they now?”</p><p class="p1">You definitely don’t need to look at Michael to know that you have to cover this one up, “They sent me off to the city to ensure I had a good life, and I am grateful to everyone who has given me kindness in my time here.”</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim fixes you with the most penetrating stare he’s sent your way this far, and you’re bracing for the worst, but what you get is, “Would you make a jacket for me, then? Or a tie?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t take person—,” you start to parrot out the usual response you give out, but catch yourself in an embarrassing stutter, “S-Sir? Do you really want one?” Is this a test? Should you have obliged right away?</p><p class="p1">But all the sternness melts away from his face as his lips curve up into a smile, that friendly face from before making an appearance again, “Sticking to your morals. That’s the sign of a strong young woman.” He turns around and slaps Mark’s father on the arm, “Good work with this one, Michael.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” Michael hums mutedly, the relief clouding his tone.</p><p class="p1">Both groups, teenagers and adults, are totally unsure of what to do now. Do you laugh? Do you remain silent in respect? You’re halfway sure you’ve just gained a smidgen of the Premier’s respect, but you’re wound too tightly to say anything more.</p><p class="p1">“What’s everyone waiting around for, it’s time for social hour, no?” Taeyeon cuts through the heavy air with an unassuming suggestion, and that snaps everyone into action.Heechul starts directing traffic, the two leaders launching into a discussion that seems less icy as they leave the room. Yunho retrieves Jeno so you don’t have to continue watching over him, and you put a shaky hand on the counter to steady yourself.</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun, come along,” the Regent orders, and General Suh does the same, “John, you too.”</p><p class="p1">The pair of them get up from the couch, both shooting you the same <em>what the fuck was that, we’re sorry</em> looks before following their fathers out of the room. Lt. General Nakamoto leaves Yuta to his own devices, and he rejoins you and your friend at the island.</p><p class="p1">“Jesus Christ,” Mark blows out a breath as his fingers come to rub at your arm. “He grilled you.”</p><p class="p1">You hug him out of self-preservation instinct, hiding your face in the warm tricorner of his neck, mumbling, “That was fucking scary.” Seriously, it feels like you’ve just run a marathon with no shoes on at the top of Mt. Everest.</p><p class="p1">“He high key scares me, yo,” Yuta agrees as he pats your hair and then takes your hand so the three of you can begin walking over to the reception. “How he can be that nice then… that frightening?”</p><p class="p1">"Me too, I don’t get how he and Dad have been associated for that long.”</p><p class="p1">“That long?”</p><p class="p1">Mark explains his choice of phrasing, “He’s a bit older than Dad but they were Regents together for years. Dad was the Regent for Neozone until he was selected as the Vice Premier, then Jae’s dad took over. I still don’t understand why Premier Kim wanted Dad in his administration, or why he even accepted the post.” Michael had told you that much himself on your second day in the city, how their political idealisms had fallen on contrasting areas of the spectrum.</p><p class="p1">“Father thinks he’s an oddball sometimes, too. He’s definitely not on John or Jaehyun’s dads' level of adoration,” Yuta adds on, with the intend to continue the conversation, but then you step into the open hall and he stops. “What… did we miss.”</p><p class="p1">You’d expected dozens of tables with people chatting, maybe even munching on appetizers. Not Premier Kim at a podium in the very front of the room, and a literal mob of reporters crowded in front of him. Taeyeon, Michael, Regent Jung, and General Suh flank the head of Dorado on either side.</p><p class="p1">Siwon Choi, the famed Neozone reporter with silver hair and a scarred cheek dressed in a suit with a gold pin, pushes past you in a hurry to get to the front. He’s replaced by John, who mutters, “No idea, I blinked and there were suddenly cameras everywhere.”</p><p class="p1">“Hello to the nation, this is Premier Kim here in Neozone,” the head of state begins his speech, the room quieting into buzzing silence punctuated by the snap of cameras. “I hope all Dorado citizens are enjoying time home with their families and are staying safe. I would like to formally announce that tomorrow, Neozone will officially re-open all trade channels with the Elyxion region.”</p><p class="p1">He may as well have just detonated a bomb in the middle of the Lee mansion. This is absolutely unprecedented.</p><p class="p1">“Holy shit,” Mark gasps, as thoroughly stunned as you are at the announcement.</p><p class="p1">“Shipping ports will be brought back into action and shipments will be going out as fast as we can establish protocols. We will start with aid, for those affected by the snow storm, but we intend for this to extend into the foreseeable future. The Vice Premier and I hope that the people of these two great regions can work together to establish a new era of peace in this nation.”</p><p class="p1">The Premier carries on in his remarks, but he must know he no longer holds anyone’s serious attention. The reporters are all typing away on their phones, trying to get the news out to their readers as fast as they can. Peace with Elyxion is something this region has only dreamed of in the past, you can’t believe this has actually been announced.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun appears out of nowhere, completely amazed at the scene, “That’s why he came. To get everyone’s approval.”</p><p class="p1">It does make sense, the surprise visit, the three hour meeting. The Premier had come here only to get the city leaders’ approval to send help to Elyxion. That explains why Michael had been so late coming home on Christmas, he’d probably stayed back to get these plans in order.</p><p class="p1">“This is so wild,” Yuta marvels. “The borders haven’t been fully open since before we were born. This is good, right? Ever since Premier Park died, things have been shit.”</p><p class="p1">“It would be nice if the Elyxion kids at school stopped being assholes to us,” Johnny grumbles.</p><p class="p1">You’ve heard his stories about how there was a stark regional divide even at his capital-based university. His stories always make you nervous, about what would happen if he found out you were from the town on the other side of the line. But you don’t feel like you’re an Elyxion girl, not really. You have the seed packet to prove it.</p><p class="p1">“We need to stop doing that too, John,” Jaehyun chastises his companion for being judgmental. “We’re no different. What do you think, Mark?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m staying out of this one, you guys already know how I feel.” You’re sure Mark shares the same views his father does, they’re so similar in so many ways. He certainly wouldn’t judge you if he was to ever find out the truth.</p><p class="p1">The room comes alive with animated chatter as the Premier’s surprise announcement takes over every single discussion in the room. The drinks begin to flow freely, and the waiters start to make rounds with the appetizers. The guys are chatting back and forth about their predictions for how this will turn out, but you can’t focus in on the conversation. What you’re focusing on instead is the Premier, the Vice Premier, and Taeyeon, inconspicuously sneaking their way out of one of the back entrances. You wander over in that direction under the guise of picking up napkins for the finger food, but you’re blatantly preparing to eavesdrop.</p><p class="p1">Tucking yourself into one of the draping green Pandora flags, you hear Michael’s deep voice first, loaded with respect and gratitude, “Kyungho, thank you.”</p><p class="p1">But those sentiments are not returned, Premier Kim’s words are sharp and unrelenting instead, “It’s not like you gave me another choice.”</p><p class="p1">The extreme fright he’d inspired in you upon questioning you in the lounge begins to recur in a much more nauseating manner. Yuta had put it perfectly, he’d been pleasant to the cameras, then turned on a dime. You’re not sure if that comes with the job, because Mark’s father doesn’t act in that manner. Maybe he hides it from you.</p><p class="p1">“They came to us begging for help!” Michael exclaims.</p><p class="p1">“This could’ve been our chance, we could’ve sealed it once and for all,” Taeyeon replies,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> backing up her boss </span>in the same composed tone she’d used before.</p><p class="p1">“Some of their cities were approaching the brink of starvation!”</p><p class="p1">“You <em>threatened </em>me,” Premier Kim snarls before Michael's even finished speaking. Whoa, what? You cannot wrap your mind around this, that Mark’s father had <em>threatened </em>the Premier to do something, you don’t know what. Maybe he really is hiding something from you.</p><p class="p1">“I said maybe Dorado should see what’s going on!” Michael cries in exasperation. “I didn’t intend to use that as a threat, but you —,”</p><p class="p1">“Let’s go, the buffet is out!” Mark snatches you up, pulling you away before you can hear any more. That overheard conversation ends up slipping away into the sludge of memories that are far more harrowing, but you'll always wish that Mark hadn't done that. Because you don’t get the full story until it’s way too late.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Slow down!” Yuta ignores you to takes a particularly hard right turn through a red light, tires of the Range Rover skidding as he steps on the gas, and the whiplash nearly sends you flying. “Be careful!”</p><p class="p1">He shoots you an apologetic grin through the rearview mirror, “Sorry, I have to speed if we want to make it there in time.”</p><p class="p1">You check on the boxes cradled in your lap, satisfied that they’re still put together properly, and you gripe to Mark, “If he makes me spill these, you’re picking them up yourself. I can’t believe you roped me into doing this.”</p><p class="p1">“Hurry, hurry,” Doyoung hollers from the back seat, “Mimi said they’re getting the check.”</p><p class="p1">“Fuck, which one is it?”</p><p class="p1">“That one!”</p><p class="p1">Yuta then does another extremely aggressive turn at the intersection Mark points out, pulling into the parking lot of a restaurant on the outskirts of the Pandora University campus. Haechan leaps out of the car first, Joy and Doyoung following after him, and he waves his arm, “There, there! I see them in the window!”</p><p class="p1">“Everybody grab a box and go!” you order, passing out the shoeboxes between Yuta, Mark, Haechan, Joy, Doyoung, and Lucas. You tuck your own under your arm as you pull up the video call on your phone, pressing the dinosaur plus eagle under your favorite contacts and whispering when it connects, “Hey, we’re here. Get ready!” The group of you disperse between the parked cars, hiding out of sight as much as you possibly can. Doyoung is positioned the best, in the bushes with a clear line of sight. He keeps his arm out, waiting, waiting, and when he flaps his hand, all of you jump out from the shadows and scream.</p><p class="p1">“Surprise! Happy birthday!” “Happy birthday Jae!!” “Congrats on living dudes!!!!” Even Jeno’s pixelated voice comes through your phone speaker, “HAAAAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun and Johnny freeze in the middle of the sidewalk, both of their mouths rounder than the moon that’s hung up in the sky.Then, their mouths wane into delighted crescents, Johnny literally hollering, “Oh my god! What are you guys doing here?”</p><p class="p1">Doyoung steps aside, revealing the boxes everybody’s holding. “Bringing a taste of home to the capital.”</p><p class="p1">Mark loops an arm around Jaehyun’s neck and explains, “You really think we’d let you two turn twenty without the required hoopla?”</p><p class="p1">You’d learned that on every fifth birthday someone celebrated in Neozone, it was long-held tradition that they’d talk a walk through town to their home, while being showered with a melange of flower petals. This was all to manifest the journey towards a successful, wondrous future.With some nudging of Jungwoo, the assistant to the Minister of Cultivation, you’d been able to procure enough of the requisite petals to fill the boxes necessary to surprise your friends.</p><p class="p1">“Sage,” Doyoung holds up one of the blue-grey buds, “for health and huge muscles.” Haechan lifts up a velvety purple petal, “Purple iris, for the wisdom you need to pass your exams.” Lucas plucks out a golden sheath and sticks it in his teeth, then lifts up a round, white blossom, “Wheat, for that hard cash money you’ll get when you get a real job. And lily of the valley to make those cheesy ass grins permanent.”</p><p class="p1">“We’d would’ve put your flowers in too, but your mouths are literally concrete on the subject,” Joy teases, causing both Johnny and Jaehyun to groan in embarrassment.</p><p class="p1">“They’re such weirdos,” Yuta mutters to you under his breath.</p><p class="p1">You have to keep from laughing out loud when you rib him back, “You’re the only one of our friends whose flower I actually know, Mr. Blue Hyacinth.”</p><p class="p1">Drunk at a party this past summer, Yuta’d randomly divulged the identity of the flower seed he’d looked up — a blue hyacinth — and ended up totally shocked that you, Jaehyun, Johnny, and Mark made a big fuss about it. You can’t speak for the others, because you’ve never asked, but you haven’t even searched out the identification of your seed yet.As a matter of fact, you find it a little corny that certain people look up their flower before their ceremonies and base their whole identity around it. You’re not ruling out doing the same, but you’ll do it only when the moment’s right.</p><p class="p1">“You four are the weirdos, keeping it secret. You’ve even rubbed off on Jeno. He’d wanted to look it up for years," Yuta’s griping at you but his eyes dart over to a girl with bangs in the back of the group, for a second so fleeting you almost miss it.You don’t know who she is, but oh, you’re going to rib him about it for sure.</p><p class="p1">“I heard that! I’m not going to look it up, even when I can at sixteen!” Jeno cries through the phone, because whatever you and Mark do, he does too.</p><p class="p1">“Jeno! Are you doing homework?!” Michael’s voice hollers from outside the frame.</p><p class="p1">“It’s Jaehyun’s birthday, dad!” Jeno yells back, not spilling the beans that you’d driven up here secretly. Michael is under the impression Mark is staying the night at your house back in Neozone.</p><p class="p1">“Give me the phone,” Jaehyun’s low voice breaks through, and you hand over your device without a second thought.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun lifts his fist so Jeno can pound it through the screen, then apologizes, “Sorry you couldn’t break curfew for this, kiddo. We’ll celebrate when I’m home again.” He ends the call, and an anticipatory grin appears on his face, “Shall we?”</p><p class="p1">“Ten minutes that way!” Mimi instructs, pointing off to an apartment complex visible at the end of the main road.</p><p class="p1">You and Mark must be borne out of the same mind, because you end up at the head of the commotion, flanking Jaehyun’s sides — you on the left, Mark on the right. Yuta and Doyoung are in the same position around Johnny, with the rest of the crowd falling behind. There’s commotion, like surely some specific others would want to be in front instead, but you can’t care. You can’t care because you’re here with your best friend, with Jaehyun’s shoulder against yours, with the beautiful still-fresh smell of flowerbuds in the air. You scoop up a bolus of the petals, letting them shimmy out of your fingers in a waterfall of color, then you pick them up again and toss them right into the air.</p><p class="p1">The silvery ring of Jaehyun’s laughter as the petals start to fall on him might be the best thing you’ve ever heard. The cascade of blossoms are your own personal galaxy of shooting stars, scattering themselves over the brim of his cap and the breadth of his shoulders, Mark ends up with a sheath of wheat caught in his bangs, and there are lilies of the valley all over your clothes. Again and again, the petals rainbow themselves across the night sky, falling to line the sidewalk in a beautiful array of a promised happy future for Johnny and Jaehyun. You’re a loud and rowdy bunch, John’s laughter could probably be heard all the way back in Neozone, and you take up all of the sidewalk without being considerate. But passerbys who recognize what you’re doing shout <em>happy birthday</em>, and cars on the street honk.</p><p class="p1">Halfway buzzed with the amount of happiness you’re feeling, you take a fist full of the satiny petals, then launch them at Jaehyun’s face, right as he laughs. He ends up with a mouth full of flower, spluttering in horror as he tastes the waxy, earthen material, and Mark explodes into guffaws, ringing into the night with delight.</p><p class="p1">“Not the face!” Jaehyun cries, holding up his hands so that the petals won’t collide with him and go into his mouth again.</p><p class="p1">“Yes, the face!” Mark bellows. “Get him, bee!”</p><p class="p1">The two of you bombard Jaehyun with the petals then, skipping the ceremonial action of tossing them into the air to fling them in his face. He breaks into a run, to try and escape you, but the three of you run ahead of the group, screaming and lasering the flowers at his back when he’s too far ahead. He reaches the apartment building before you do, but he makes the mistake of not hiding. Because once you and Mark are in range, you time your next toss so both of them hit him square in his face at the same time.</p><p class="p1">“Stop! Stop!” Jaehyun swats at you both, and you do your best to dodge his hands to keep pelting him. He wipes away a tear that he cries in laughter, doubling over and putting his hands on his knees, “Hahahaha I can’t stop laughing.” To see him this compromised by mirth causes both you and Mark to collapse in the same manner, the three of you lined up like stooges, absolutely wheezing your little lungs out in laughter.</p><p class="p1">Johnny comes running up, the rest of the party in tow, and he slaps Jaehyun clear across the back to get him out of his hysterics, “Stop laughing so we can party, bro!!!! You can’t laugh while drinking!”</p><p class="p1">“Last one to the party has to move to Elyxion!” Doyoung hollers, and all of you go barreling into the complex.</p><p class="p1">There are already dozens of college kids milling around the recreation room of their apartment building, and Johnny literally yanks you along when he makes a beeline for the drinks table. He pushes two clear spirit bottles towards you and asks, “Tequila or vodka?”</p><p class="p1">“Um,” you hesitate, unsure of what to pick. “I’ve honestly never really drank. Sips of champagne with Michael and Mark at official events, but that’s it. My mom and dad didn’t really drink that much, alcohol was hard to come by.”  Just getting a bottle of wine from the market for special occasions had been a big deal for your father, who rationed the liquid out like it was holy water when he was able to get his hands on it. He’d sneak you sips of the tart liquid when your mother wasn’t looking.</p><p class="p1">Mark saunters over, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “It’s true. She never bites.”</p><p class="p1">“Give her vodka,” Jaehyun instructs, “I think she’ll hate tequila.”</p><p class="p1">Johnny passes you a red cup, partially filled with the acrid-smelling liquid, and you gulp nervously. You have no idea how this is going to go. The four of you clink your cups together, <em>Bottoms up!</em>, and then you down the shot. Yikes, that shit burns all the way down your esophagus, leaving you with a very bitter aftertaste in your mouth and an immediate wooziness in your head. Is this the famed feeling of intoxication?</p><p class="p1">“I think I’m drunk.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s brow furrows at your sudden proclamation. “That was one shot.”</p><p class="p1">“You literally get drunk after one shot too, dude!” Johnny teases Jaehyun about his super bad tolerance, causing him to flush.</p><p class="p1">“What do I do?” You whisper to Mark, really feeling the heady rush coming on.</p><p class="p1">“The only thing to do is to have more, bee. Lucas is the DD home, so we can go deep.” He slides another filled cup towards you, sly and calculating and ready to let the night go where it goes.</p><p class="p1">“I hate you,” you grumble, but tip the liquid down your throat all the same.</p><p class="p1">You are indeed experiencing the famed feeling of intoxication. Once the second shot mixes with the first, it’s not as bad to keep the alcohol flowing freely, another shot, plus a beer, plus this fruity white wine concoction that Johnny tempts you with. You don’t really socialize, letting the boys go and do their thing, content to stay on a chair in the corner of the room and hazily soak it all in. This is nothing like the tiny Neozone U parties you and Mark occasionally go to, John and Jaehyun are clearly popular even here.</p><p class="p1">You’re spurred into movement when you see someone standing alone an hour in. Taking slow, halting steps in order to not topple over before reaching your destination, you make your way over to where Yuta is leaning against the wall. His intense gaze is out into the mosh of people, settling on the same beautiful girl with bangs you’d caught him gazing at outside of the bar.</p><p class="p1">You elbow him in the ribs, “You’ve been staring all night. You into her?”</p><p class="p1">He takes a long, slow sip from his cup of beer, then divulges, “She’s from Elyxion.” He’s never really expressed his thoughts and feelings on the inter-region conflict, and you’re surprised it’s coming up now.</p><p class="p1">“Does it matter to you?” You ask, tentative, not wanting to rile him up.</p><p class="p1">He shrugs. “Not really.”</p><p class="p1">“Then go for it. I dare you.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta thinks for a second, mouth tightening as he contemplates your words, and then he hands his beer off to you. Shaking out his shoulders and straightening up into his usual lithe, princely posture, there’s a flash of that self-assured smirk that has always affected you. “She’s second to you, I promise,” he turns one ounce of flirtation your way, and then he’s off.</p><p class="p1">“I believe it!” You yell, lifting both the cups in a toast to him, immensely pleased he’s gathered the balls to talk to the girl.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, come over here!”</p><p class="p1">You twirl in place two times, trying to find the other person who’d called after you, room spinning as you see it’s Mimi and her friends on the couch. You skip over, sloshing the beer all over your hands, and you wave with cups in grasp, “Hey! I’m so glad to see you. Why do you look so cute all the time, it’s not fair!” It’s really not, that she can look this put together in her curled pigtails and minidress and you’re unsightly in Mark’s stupid Bats tee and jeans. You take a large gulp of beer and then chuckle sheepishly, “Sorry, I am very drunk I think.”</p><p class="p1">Mimi giggles, also tipsy off her wine coolers, and she returns the compliment, “Thank you, you’re so cute too.” Then, with unnatural strength, she pulls you down right into the middle of the posse and lowers her voice, “Girl talk time. Which one of them are you dating?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, what?”</p><p class="p1">“You don’t have to play dumb with us, we’re all close here. Which one of them are you dating?” She juts her chin out across the way, and you follow the direction of the motion straight to… your friends? She can’t possibly think you’re dating one of those idiots.</p><p class="p1">“I’m not dating any of them,” you laugh, loudly and hysterically, falling silent only when you realize that all of the girls on this couch are peering at you with full curiosity. “Wait, you think I am?”</p><p class="p1">“Come on, the five of you are always together. You made them matching ties!” Binnie reminds you of a month ago, when her sister had inadvertently exposed you to Premier Kim’s questioning because of said precious gifts.</p><p class="p1">“I can assure you that none of us are dating, and we definitely never will,” you sniff, wiping away a tear that’s squeezed out at the hilarity of it all. But they don’t react in the same manner, so you say it quite jokingly, “What, you want me to put a good word in or something?”</p><p class="p1">Seola interjects, full of surprise, “Wait, you’d do that?”</p><p class="p1">Wait. That’s what they actually want you to do? You take a once-over around the group of girls and the curiosity in their eyes have dissolved into longing and intrigue. Why the hell not? At least this will be genuinely entertaining.</p><p class="p1">“Who do you like? I already know Mimi likes Jaehyun,” you ask Seola as you wave a carefree hand towards the girl next to you. Mimi yelps in denial, though the fiery red of her cheeks gives her away.</p><p class="p1">“Yu—Oh,” Seola clearly starts to say Mark’s bodyguard’s name, when you turn to search for him in the crowd, you don’t have to look far.</p><p class="p1">There Yuta is, half-hidden behind the plastic table of drinks, eyes closed and grin lazy as he sloppily makes out with the girl he’d pointed out before. Of course he’d been able to charm his way into her atmosphere, he’s incredibly hard to resist. But as you watch them kiss, there’s no note of disappointment or jealousy in you, only pride.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, damn!” You wolf-whistle across the way. “Get it dude!” You’re so entranced in the first display of romantic affection from the man that's been directed at anyone other than you, that you miss all of the hushed whispers, <em>“Why her?” “Ew. Seulgi’s from Elyxion.” “He could do so much better than that.”</em></p><p class="p1">“Well, not sure if I can do anything on that one,” you enter back into the conversation, then point over at Yooa on the end of the couch, “What about you? You’re the only other single one.”</p><p class="p1">She is too shy, perhaps maybe not drunk enough to voice the name of her crush out loud. But you catch the tiny flick of her eyes, to her left and then back on you. You glance, brazenly and without reservation, to see Johnny at the drinks table, throat exposed as he downs Jack Daniels’ straight from the bottle. You get it, it’s a sight that inspires a number of strange sensations.</p><p class="p1">“Okay. I’ll do what I can,” you proclaim, then standing up and picking up both of your cups to begin your secret mission for your girlfriends.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, wait, shouldn’t we talk strategy?!” Mimi calls after your retreating back, but it’s too late, you’re already on the unstoppable path leading right to your friend.</p><p class="p1">Taking another gulp of white wine, you think hard about how you’re going to play this. Come on too hard and John will definitely find it bizarre, take too many steps back and he won’t pick up on what you’re implying. But he's so easy for you to beguile, all you need is the slightest hint of your undivided attention and you’ll have him doing precisely what you want.</p><p class="p1">The instant Johnny reaches out for something, you duck under his arm, popping up right in front of him. You quirk the corner of your lip up into a smirk, and he loses all motivation to do anything else but listen to you softly say, “Don’t you think Yooa looks so pretty tonight?”</p><p class="p1">“What are you talking about?” He glances over at her for a second, where she's trying not to look your way from her spot on the couch. But his intentions are only funneled towards you, once he turns back around he takes a step closer into your orbit. The smell of his Armani cologne is even more intoxicating than the spirits you’ve been imbibing all night, and the minute his hand curves over your waist you spin out of his grasp.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t do that when she’s right there!. I’d rather survive the night please,” you hiss, trying to get your point across that he should be focusing on Yooa.</p><p class="p1">“It’s my birthday, I’ll talk to who I want,” Johnny removes his hand from your waist, choosing to cross his arms over his chest in a very egregious display of machismo. “You want to stay up here, go out tomorrow?”</p><p class="p1">How did this turn into him asking you out yet again?! Focus y/n, get this back on track, you cannot get swept up in the hurricane of dreaminess that is John in his tight white tee. “I think you forget I also go to school. I have an exam on Monday I need to study for.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s just a night—,”</p><p class="p1">“She really does look, so pretty,” you cut off his attempts at luring you in by pointedly staring at the girl in question. And lucky for you, you also spot Mark aimlessly wandering on his own, giving you the perfect out, “Sorry, gotta run!”</p><p class="p1">Mark whoops in delight when he sees you coming over and the pair of you continue to actually yell gibberish at each other for a solid two minute, jumping up and down in a circle with your arms flapping. You stop to take a sip from his cup, wincing at the taste of some awful rum drink, and then you ask, “Have you seen Jaehyun?”</p><p class="p1">You need to get Mimi out of this stagnant zone once and for all.</p><p class="p1">“No, he was just here looking for you but seems to have disappeared. Poof.” Mark’s eyes widen as he looks around, bewildered, for a sign of his friend. He even makes the hand gesture, fingers exploding out in an imitation of Jaehyun’s magic disappearance.</p><p class="p1">You bend your face in and whisper in conspiracy, “You want to hear some gossip?”</p><p class="p1">“Always.”</p><p class="p1">Tugging him out of the room by his hand, you head into the deserted hallway where you can freely pass out the information you’ve obtained. You both flop on the ground, legs pretzeling against each other, and you blab it without a care, “Those girls are <em>obsessed</em> with your friends.”</p><p class="p1">“I mean we knew that right? I think? I honestly can’t remember anything that happened before like five minutes ago,” Mark is beyond drunk now, words somehow coherent but not inspiring any dregs of sober reality.</p><p class="p1">The two of you peer back into the room around the door corner, stacking your heads like a statue. Yooa is off the couch now, drink in hand as she flirts with Johnny.  Perfect. You fist pump at your success as you explain yourself to Mark, “Yooa is legitimately googoo gaga over Johnny. I just laid down some hard, hard work for her.” You nudge him in the side so he looks the right direction, to where Yuta and the girl are now dancing and continuing to kiss, “Seola is into Yuta which is tragic because he’s going spelunking in that girl’s mouth right now.And we alllllll know that Mimi has been in love with Jaehyun for like… her whole life?”</p><p class="p1">You suddenly sit back down, realizing something upsetting, “Wait, sorry bumble, I don’t think there was anyone saying anything about you.” Mark is the cutest, loveliest one of your friends, out of all of them, he should be the one they’re swooning over. You’ll do it yourself if no one wants to.</p><p class="p1">He punches you in the arm with a not-upset-at-all cackle, “Why are you sorry? That leaves me for you.”</p><p class="p1">“Your brother’s crew might fight you for that," you say, with total seriousness. Since you’d taken over the duty of bringing Jeno to his practices, it was as if each of his preteen teammates were hypnotized by the same aim, to woo you in their own individually hilarious ways. Mark had tried to tell them to back off, but the boys had only gotten sneakier and more insistent. “Chenle throws an autographed ball my way each time he shows up to practice. Autographed! Every Thursday before I leave Jaemin asks if I think I can handle him. I’m like bro, you’re twelve. Go watch cartoons!”</p><p class="p1">Mark nods in solemn awe at the collective braggadocio of his little brother's teammates, “They’re dedicated, I’ll give them that.”</p><p class="p1">“They’re truly iconic. I wish I was that confident at twelve," you agree, and together you lift your cups in a toast to his absent kid brother. Your chest automatically fills with the same fond affection you get whenever you think of the siblings.</p><p class="p1">“I think Dad would poop himself if we started dating,” Mark slurs somewhat out of the blue, leaning his head against your shoulder. “But like in a good way.”</p><p class="p1">Your face scrunches in disgust, “How can pooping yourself be good in any way, Mark?”</p><p class="p1">He can’t keep the giggles at bay, the notes of enthusiasm bubbling out of him, “I don’t know haha, I think you’re the kind of girl that Mom and Dad would want me to bring home, even though you’re like. Already there. I couldn’t actually bring you home because you’re already there haha.”</p><p class="p1">He is the kind of boy your parents would definitely want you to bring home - handsome, talented, funny, unbelievably kind, the pair of you intertwined on an innate level. They certainly wouldn’t care that he was from Neozone. It’d be kind of funny, honestly. For the poor girl to end up with the rich son of the family who’d saved her.</p><p class="p1">“Awwwww,” you coo, mushing the side of your face into his. “I'd bring you home too, my bumbly little bee.”</p><p class="p1">The sweet moment is broken by Mark’s belligerent yell steamrolling right into your ear, “Yo! Jae! Y/n was looking for you.” He then does a very dramatic sweep of the empty hallway, jumping in surprise when he sees you, as if you’d appeared out nowhere instead of being right beside him the whole time, “Yoooo dude! Jae was looking for you!”</p><p class="p1">If your head feels this spinny looking up see Jaehyun there in his purple NU hat and black tee, you’re fairly confident you won’t be able to stand up without your whole body careening off into the galaxy. You pat your hand onto the floor tile, demanding he sit with you, and he complies to avoid your wrath.</p><p class="p1">“That is my duty fulfilled, I’m going to get more beer haha.” Mark pets you both on your heads like you’re cats and then walks away.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun starts to say something, “Where’s my—,”</p><p class="p1">You hold out a finger to his pink lips, shushing him before he can finish, “Nuh uh, me first. Take a good, good hard look.” You squeeze his chin like your hand is a crab claw, then forcibly turn his face so he can peer into the party.</p><p class="p1">“What am I looking at? All I see are John’s obnoxious Jordans,” he mumbles, having trouble speaking because of your grip on his face.</p><p class="p1">You drunkenly realize you’ve pointed his eyes right to where Johnny’s bright red sneakers are. You groan at him though it was your mistake, “Not there, you idiot,” you lift his gaze, “There. That is the face of a girl who is the cutest person I’ve ever seen.”</p><p class="p1">You know for sure he sees Mimi where she’s sitting primly, one coil of hair twirled in her fingers as she bops along to the Carly Rae Jepsen that’s blasting. You’d gotten John to talk to Yooa after less than ten minutes of conversation, and while it might take a bit more effort because you don’t inspire the same effect on Jaehyun, you’re going to try your best. Look at her, Jaehyun, she’s so cute!</p><p class="p1">His lips purse, the tiniest corner of the bottom one brushes against your hand. “Debatable.”</p><p class="p1">Ugh, come on, just go with it! You squeeze his face again and whine, “She also, really likes you! So you should go in there, like right now! I’m sure you could get a fat one laid on you for the first time!”</p><p class="p1">But he still doesn’t go, he actually turns his head to glance at you, to casually drawl, “You think I haven’t kissed girls before?”</p><p class="p1">Your hand slides from his face as your mouth opens in indignation, “How would I know that!”</p><p class="p1">He takes off his hat, meandering a hand right through all of his honey brown hair, a gesture that’s way more captivating than you’d anticipated. You already knew that his hands were big enough to bend your sewing needles, but that right there had been a bit too much for you. Moreover, this is not the kind of topic territory you ever cross into with Jaehyun. You could list all of John's various conquests in college, the girls Yuta's made out with, even the two or three girls Mark's had a crush on over the years, but you don't know a single thing about Jaehyun in this regard. And you're not sure if you want to.</p><p class="p1">“Are you done?” he asks with a sigh.</p><p class="p1">“Yup,” you answer, suddenly wanting to be out of this conversation.</p><p class="p1">“My turn, then. Where’s my birthday present?” Jaehyun won’t let you get out of this unscathed, and your heartbeat has no pacer helping it along, already skittering to and fro just after that query.</p><p class="p1">“I—,” you begin, but he takes his turn to interrupt.</p><p class="p1">“You promised two gifts. I know you chipped in to get John those Js.”</p><p class="p1">Truth be told, when Mark had brought up the idea of coming to Pandora for the Double J’s birthday, you’d spent the rest of the evening searching up gifts to order Jaehyun online. Yuta had already started the fund to purchase John his shoes, but despite searching to the very last strands of the web, you couldn’t find anything appropriate to buy for Jaehyun. You’d thought about purchasing him a copy of Baekhyun’s City Lights, or maybe a pie tin to bake freshly picked blueberry pies in, but those ideas hadn’t felt right.</p><p class="p1">Then, you’d had one incredibly foolish thought. A foolish, utterly embarrassing thought that you couldn’t actually say to him. It seriously would be beyond dumb to say a phrase along the lines of, <em>well, your present is me being here, I came all the way up here for you. Well for you and John, but for you</em>.</p><p class="p1">Again, you can’t say that, so what the fuck can you give Jaehyun now, to make it seem like you had prepared for this? But the instant your leg twitches with discomfort, you feel something in your pocket that might work. Your voice is quiet as you dig through your jeans to pull out your wallet, not brave enough to lock eyes with him, “I’m going to be honest, I don’t have much. I was really busy at school.” You flip the leather holder open and pull out a glossy slip of something from the money pocket, pressing it into his hand, “You can have this, though.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s friends had crashed the portrait session he’d gotten for you for Christmas, as is typical with every other thing you do. The group of you had gone over the time limit by two hours taking funny photo after funny photo, some of which you’d printed on a whim one blustery January day. The one of you, Mark, Michael, and Jeno is in the back of your phone case. The ones of you and Yuta and you and John are on opposite sides of your window wall. And the one of you and Jaehyun, well, he’s holding it right now. You’d kept it in your wallet.</p><p class="p1">“You printed these?” he breathes out, words almost lost in the pounding music.</p><p class="p1">“How could I not? Happy birthday, Jae.”</p><p class="p1">You think your reply also disappears into the melody, but the twinkle in his eye is all you need to realize he’d heard you, loud and clear.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for reading! stay tuned!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. zinnia elegans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You’ve never had an awkward moment with him, not even on the very first day you’d been in Neozone, your life has been filled to the brim with his endearing banter. To stand here in silence with Jeno means something is actually wrong, and now that you're alone, you need to figure it out. </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The TV is blaring so loudly when the front door opens, you can barely hear Jaehyun’s, “I saw your light was on and came as soon as I could,” over the booming voice of Siwon Choi, the news reporter.</p><p>
  <em>We’re bringing to you the latest scene from Pandora, where sixteen people at XM University have died after an explosive device detonated in the middle of a lecture hall.</em>
</p><p>You and Mark had been aimlessly flipping through channels in boredom when the fanfare of breaking news had shattered through your house. On the screen right now is the footage of the smoke-emanating rubble that now stands in the place of the gleaming university building. This is one of the most horrific sights you’ve ever seen in your life. There's b-roll after b-roll of shaky, dusty video, filled with the screams of horror from the current university students. </p><p>“That is so terrible,” Mark breathes out as the three of you sit on the couch, entranced by what’s unfolding.</p><p>“There has been no motive nor suspects officially identified. However, it has been reported that the classroom this occurred in was an Elyxion-Neozone historical relations lecture. Investigators are unsure if this is a pointed connect, but many have also recognized that this incident occurred on the twelve year anniversary of The Night of Darkness.”</p><p>Your eyes blow open in realization of what date it is, and when you glance over to your friend, Mark’s sitting there in complete blankness, mouth wide open as he listens to the second reporter.</p><p>“That’s right. If viewers can recall, The Night of Darkness references this day twelve years ago, when sixteen Neozone residents disappeared from their homes in the middle of the night, never to be found again. Though no suspect was ever identified in the case, many in Neozone still believe the incident was perpetrated by Elyxion. No word if today’s incident - which is identical in the number of victims as well - was done in some sort of retaliation.”</p><p>“Shit, I didn’t even realize that,” Jaehyun sighs, then glances full of concern, over to Mark, who remains totally silent. “Hey, hey, you okay?”</p><p>You hadn’t heard much about The Night of Darkness when it’d happened, just the requisite news reports that had come through to Tactix. News reports on the sixteen precious souls that were kidnapped out of their own homes, who were still unaccounted for today. If it had been that stifling for you then, you can’t imagine what it’d been like for the kids who’d actually lived through the sheer terror that must’ve permeated the city.</p><p>“Fine,” Mark mutters, keeping his eye locked on the TV.</p><p>“Military troops in both Elyxion and Neozone have mobilized as a response to the attack, but have stalled at the border, waiting for further instruction.”</p><p>“Is that true?” you ask Jaehyun, totally surprised there’s been this aggressive of a response already. </p><p>He nods severely. “Yeah, John said his dad was called out to the line,” he explains, then juts his head back to where there’s a nondescript escort by the door. “I’m with the rotating guard because they left together, but I think Lt. Gen. Nakamoto let Yuta stay behind, M.”</p><p>Mark is still not listening to your side conversation as the information continues to pour in, “Premier Kim is expected to address the burgeoning crisis soon. Regents on both sides hope he will be able to quell the flames between regions as the nation is preparing to celebrate the bicentennial celebration of its founding at the end of the year. Continue watching the broadcast for more on this developing story.”</p><p>He turns off the TV before any more can come out, and lets out a hefty sigh, “It feels like it was yesterday that the Premier was here. But it’s been over three years, he came the year Jae turned twenty.”</p><p>Jaehyun takes a moment to let out an incredibly dramatic groan, dropping his head into his hands, “Thanks for reminding me that I’m over the hill.” He’s making a strong effort to cheer Mark up, and you sincerely appreciate him for that.</p><p>“I’m surprised it took this long for things to blow up again,” you muse, thinking of the relative peace that had ensued following Premier Kim’s announcement.</p><p>“I’m not. Haven’t you been keeping up with all the reports since August of the returning unrest? There are so many rumors the aid to Elyxion might be cut off soon, Dad spends more time in Pandora than he does here.” </p><p>Now that Jeno is in high school, Michael often spends weeks at a time in the capital, coming home much less frequently than he did in previous years. But you were probably naive to assume it was for positive reasons. Patience has been wearing thin on both sides, as more traders, importers, and businessmen throughout your region had chosen to stop assisting Elyxion. These moves were fully prejudiced, but expressed under the guise that the other region had had enough time to recover economically from that crippling snowstorm. There’d been months of constant back and forth, that Michael spent trying to appease his own citizens while listening to the re-emerging pleas for help from the other region. Now it seems to have blown up, literally, in his face.</p><p>“With the celebration coming up, it’s going to be a rough few months,” Jaehyun points out, knowing that tempers tended to flare around the holiday due to historical context. “That’s some scary shit, though. Pandora U, XK, and XM are all in the same area in the capital. That could’ve been me.” A tiny sprig of green relief springs up in you, that Jaehyun hadn’t been in harm’s way. He’s been done with college for some time now, but the what if scenario is too harrowing to contemplate. </p><p>“Dad’s supposed to come back tomorrow, but that will probably be delayed. J won’t be back until the weekend,” Mark says, more to himself than to anyone else, but you can still hear the fear in his voice.</p><p>Jaehyun places a comforting hand on Mark’s arm and asks, “Are you thinking about bringing Nono home?”</p><p>Jeno had left for baseball camp in nearby White Limit with his friends, but with the burgeoning horror in the world, you can’t blame Mark for his apprehension, “I don’t know what to do. He took five guards with him, but I still worry.”</p><p>“You should get him a guard as soon as he turns sixteen, like we did.”</p><p>“I know. Colonel Huang’s son Renjun has gotten closer to him recently. He might be good.”</p><p>“Let’s go lay outside,” you blurt out of the blue, not wanting the day to reach the trenches of depressing depth they’re headed to. “It’s so beautiful for November.”</p><p>Jaehyun catches on to what you’re doing and stands up, pulling Mark with him, “Come on, Marco.”</p><p>“Bumble, let’s go,” you plead, as your efforts to get him up are met with resistance. “It’s not good to think about this.”</p><p>You manage to tug Mark fully up when Jaehyun’s phone goes off, and he shoos you away, “I’ll be right out, I have to take this.”</p><p>The autumn sun is still snugly warm, hugging you in a soothing embrace as you head outside. Mark collapses the moment you step into the field making up your backyard, rolling sweetly among the tiny white flowers that are always present. “How is this patch of weeds nicer than any flower field that I’ve been in in this city.”</p><p>“It’s because it’s my patch of weeds. And call them by their proper name, Mark, we’re dignified,” you primly inform him in a fake, posh British accent, in an attempt to get him to laugh.</p><p>“Stellaria, sorry…” he grumbles. “We weren’t even able to go to the river this summer because of all this shit. I wish it’d end.” He rolls over once more, burying his face in the fragrant, freshly cut grass, and inhaling deeply. He must’ve been more affected by the news reports than you thought. Poor guy.</p><p>Jaehyun comes running over, sliding on his knees through the grass and collapsing to a stop against Mark’s turned back. He arranges himself like he’s lounging on a luxurious chaise and turns to you, “Hey, sorry about that. No starker reminder that the outside world doesn’t matter than your job calling you asking why you’re late.”</p><p>You make a face. “Everyone at city hall surely watched the same thing we did.”</p><p>“The civil service grind never stops,” he parrots out the words his bosses at the Policy Office strive by. “You two are lucky you don’t work.”</p><p>You slap him on the arm in mock offense, “Hey! I have a job.”</p><p>“Being Mark’s friend doesn’t count!” he wags at you in a singsong manner, before flicking at your cheek. “I’ve gotta go before they tell Dad.”</p><p>You wave at him as he goes, and you lean your chin against Mark’s shoulder when he doesn’t say goodbye to his friend. His mind is clearly preoccupied by what you’ve watched, and you hate that he looks so stressed out. “You’re thinking about it again. Don’t think about it.”</p><p>“I can’t help it. He’s my little brother. And the stuff about The Night of Darkness made me very, very nervous.”</p><p>“Let’s call him,” you offer, pulling out your phone and tapping the familiar dinosaur eagle contact that’s near the top of your recent calls list.</p><p>Your phone rings, and rings, and rings again, and you’re starting to get nervous yourself when it finally connects, Jeno’s sweaty face popping into the frame. “Hey. Are you calling because you’re worried?”</p><p>Mark finally looks up from his position of suffering, and when you lock eyes, Jeno groans, “Guys, seriously?”</p><p>Now that he’s fifteen going on twenty-five, he absolutely loathes how overprotective the two of you are over him. He fiddles with his phone so his friends can’t see and then hisses lowly, “Listen, I’m here with the Neozone guards. Dad called me already and said I can stay. It’s probably safer for me to remain in one place, and I’ll be home in two days.” </p><p>“Call us both of those days, okay?” Mark instructs sternly.</p><p>The boy rolls his eyes. “Okay Mom and Dad.”</p><p>“Jeno.”</p><p>“I’m being careful,” he reassures his brother to the best of his ability. “I stick with Min or Chenle, a guard is always with me. What happened to those kids could’ve happened anywhere.” Your heart deflates with the seriousness of his tone. “Coach is calling us, I have to go. I love you guys.”</p><p>“Love you too,” you and Mark respond simultaneously, and then the call clicks dead. You flop back onto the grass, the sheafs tickling at the skin of your neck, and your deflated heart echoes the words Mark says, “Ugh, he shouldn’t be saying that. He’s just a kid himself.”</p><p>“He’s a teenager.”</p><p>“Don’t remind me. He’s way smarter than I was at that age.”</p><p>“I know, you were still calling me dude at seventeen,” you tease, and Mark finally, finally cracks a smile.  You throw an arm around Mark and heave him up from the grass with a playful tug, “Come on, I’ll order a sausage pizza and we can forget about this until we need to remember it." You’ve spent so much of the past years being frivolously carefree together. While all that’s transpired today is acutely making you aware of how privileged that mindset is, you want to hold onto that innocence for as long as you can.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>You don’t realize you’re that tightly wound up until the next day, when you see a familiar silver car pull up the access road and your shoulders drop what feels like a mile. Mark must experience the same sensation, because he lets out a relieved whistle, “There’s the Porsche. No Christmas Day debacle part two.”</p><p>“Thank god,” you murmur, “I still have nightmares about that day.”</p><p>Yuta elbows you from his position behind Mark, “At least you’re on good terms with the Premier now.”</p><p>“If I knew that, I would’ve made his tie before all of yours!”</p><p>That causes all three of you to chuckle, thinking of how terrified you’d been by the imposing presence of Premier Kim that Christmas. He’d visited again the next year with Taeyeon and had been nothing but pleasant to you. He’d brought you an expensive bottle of wine distilled in city, and you’d gifted him a tie embroidered with his chrysanthemum sigil, not forgetting his request that you make him something.  Even the strains of frost you’d picked up between Premier Kim and Michael had seemingly dissolved away, the argument you’d overheard between the two of them a forgotten thing of the past. During the Premier’s following trips to Neozone, the two men would stay up late, chatting over bourbons, sometimes even hitting batting practice with Jeno.  You never were able to figure out why Michael's shirt had been ripped that day, and to be very honest, you'd forced yourself to move past that incident when nothing else suspicious had cropped up. </p><p>Speaking of Michael, here he is now, briefcase in hand, a man you don’t recognize opening the door for him so he can re-enter the mansion. </p><p>“Dad!” Mark waves.</p><p>“Son,” Michael greets Mark quite curtly, with a handshake and no hug offered. Even to you and to Yuta, he is exceedingly formal, “Mr. Nakamoto, Ms. Y/l/n.”</p><p>What? This is something you’ve never seen from Michael, even in your first meeting at the train station his tone had been punctuated with warmth, none of this rigid formality. You glance behind him, and there’s a row of additional, still unrecognizable men, in the standard military uniform, with a green Dorado flag patch on their chests.</p><p>“How was your trip?” Mark starts to initiate a more casual conversation with his father, but he doesn’t get far. </p><p>“We will be returning back to Pandora today,” Michael details the change in plans, remaining stiff. “The Premier has requested our family accompany him to pay his respects at the memorial to the victims of the XM bombing.”</p><p>“Wait, what?” Mark stutters, totally confused. “But Jeno’s at baseball camp—,”</p><p>“Your brother will still be coming home on the train the day after tomorrow. He will not be accompanying us, as he is still underage and cannot be shown on camera.”</p><p>“Camera? What the fu—,”</p><p>“Mark,” Michael sternly cuts him off before the curse word can make its way out of his mouth. Again, weird, considering he usually doesn’t give a hoot if you two run your mouths inappropriately. </p><p>The three of you exchange befuddled glances before Yuta tries to take the VP’s briefcase, offering, “Well, let’s go inside first so you can rest.”</p><p>Michael smoothly passes off his bag to Yunho instead and reveals, “Our car leaves in fifteen minutes.”</p><p>“Then I gotta pack?” Mark mumbles, dumbfounded. </p><p>“We will accompany you, sir,” the soldier who’d opened the door for Michael barks out, the first time any of them have spoken, and you flinch at the sudden interruption. </p><p>Michael inclines his head in deference, “Surely you don’t have to follow me into my son’s room? I can assure you we’re in no danger there.”</p><p>The leader bristles for a moment, contemplating Michael’s request, and then steps back and extends an arm. Once you have his approval, the group of you speedwalk out of the entryway and into the residential area, slamming and locking the door of Mark’s room behind you once you’re inside. You’re not entirely sure what to ask first, you have so many questions about that bizarre display of authoritative strength.</p><p>Mark beats you to the punch, “Dad, what’s going on? What the hell was all that?”</p><p>A wry smile splits the older man’s face and all pretenses of protocol are lost, “You had a nice time meeting my new security team, huh?”</p><p>“Where are the other guys? The weekly ones from downtown?” Yunho asks, tapping through his tablet to see who should’ve been scheduled. “I always thought you should have a main escort like the children.” The job of Vice Premier has too many schedules and too many hidden dangers to be covered by only one person, hence why Michael always had an ever-rotating cast of guards around him. But this? What’s the explanation behind this?</p><p>“They were added on.”</p><p>“Only you?” Yuta digs for more information, to help himself understand.</p><p>“No, every official got a new detail. For our protection after the attack,” Michael divulges. You feel one modicum of reprieve before the anxiety ratchets back up when he continues with, “Listen to me. Do not say anything when you’re in their presence. Speak to me only with formalities." He’s said it as a stark warning, to all of you in the room with him, even Yunho. This has suddenly gotten haunting and real. Just what is going on? </p><p>“Dad—,”</p><p>“Mark,” he warns his son after his protest, “You have to do as I say.” </p><p>Yuta asks the question you’re all thinking, “What, you think this is a conspiracy or something, sir?” </p><p>Michael lowers his voice to the quietest point it can go, in case there were people listening in through the door, “No, but think about it. These are Special Forces soldiers under the Security Minister’s hand, not you boys from the outpost downtown or our vetted staff. Don’t you think if anything, anything comes up, that there might be a tendency for loose lips?” </p><p>That’s where you’ve seen the logo on their uniforms before. The green square on their chests is the logo of the Security Ministry, a military organization that Premier Kim had set up to maintain the peace between Elyxion and Neozone. Working as neutral soldiers of the capital, they didn’t report to any official from either region, only to the head of the department, who reported directly to the Premier.</p><p>You voice your hypothesis out loud, “Are they spying?”</p><p>Michael shakes his head, but his unnerving glance to the door and back gives him away, “Not officially. But with no leads on the bombing, I can’t exactly blame them for trying to find out anything they can. Remember, everyone got new details, whether they’re from Neozone, Elyxion, or Pandora.”</p><p>“Who do you think did this?” Mark wonders out loud, the most nagging question of them all.</p><p>“No idea. Keep your eyes open when you’re there, okay?” Mark nods at his father’s request, but you know Michael’s lack of clarity is unsettling for everyone. If someone as high up as him in the government didn’t have any idea, how safe are you really?</p><p>“Let me come,” Yuta presses, wanting to give Mark’s dad a familiar, safe face in his entourage.</p><p>“No, stay here, I’ll risk them over you being unsafe, especially now that your father is on the line.” Michael puts a thankful hand on Yuta’s shoulder, and instructs him, “Keep an eye out on Jeno when he gets back,” before turning to Yunho and clarifying, “He’s going to stay with Jefferson, I’d rather him be under the eye of an actual parent.”</p><p>As much as you hold tension with Regent Jung, it’s a weight off your shoulders to know you won’t have to stand dutiful, agonizing watch for the next week. You can be utilized more efficiently, in keeping Jeno occupied.</p><p>“Kids, I love you a lot. Stay safe.”</p><p>Michael pulls you and Yuta into a hug as Mark and Yunho scramble to shove things into his bag. You clutch at his jacket, grasping for some purchase of comfort, hoping the soft feel of his blazer will tamp out the sensation of lingering doom. Everything has gone so full heel awful, you nearly scream in surprise when the Pandora escorts enter the room to hurry the Vice Premier along. It’s unnerving, to stand there frozen as the head guard watches every movement in the room, to not budge a muscle as they prepare to leave. It’s as if breathing wrong will alert them to the conspiratorial conversation that had taken place. </p><p>“Bee,” Mark breathes out, unable to reach for an embrace as the soldiers surround him.</p><p>You can’t even believe the tears are stabbing at your eyes, this isn’t the last time you’ll ever see him, things will be okay. They’re going to Pandora and back, just as they have many times before. You feebly wave, voice coming out in a whisper, “Bye, bumble.”</p><p>You watch them march down the hallway until they’re tiny dots of color through the glass of the entry doors. You don’t realize the tears have actually dripped onto your face until Yuta’s soft hand curves around your torso, tucking you into his chest, “Hey, come here. They’ll be okay.”</p><p>“You promise?” You mumble, right into the silk of his dress shirt.</p><p>“I can’t,” he admits, both of you reaching the peak of forlorn ineptitude. “But they will.”</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>It would be a little hilarious, how you and whichever one of Mark’s friends is tasked to watch over his brother turn into literal parents whenever you’re on duty. But it’s not funny now, as you and Yuta crane your necks, trying to pick out the small head of black hair you’re looking for. There’s an urgency there that’s never been around before.</p><p>Coach Pyo comes out first, then the kids follow behind him. You wave when you see Seola down the row, waiting for her brother. She turns a shade of bright red once she spots your companion, turning in a hurry to collect her sibling and get out of there. Hm, interesting. You’re going to have to ask Yuta about that one later, considering the persistent length of her crush on him.</p><p>The minute Jeno’s purple Converse comes stepping down the stairs you know you’ve never been happier to see the boy before. But he certainly does not return the sentiment. He doesn’t greet you, only walking over and giving you both a closelipped smile. You force some cheeriness into your voice, ruffling his hair, “Hey, kiddo. Sorry you had to come home.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” he mutters.</p><p>Chenle and Jaemin come off the train at the same time, stupidly slapping each other on the back when they see you on the platform with their friend. “Bye, Jeno!” They call and wave, but the kid doesn’t even look their way.</p><p>“Where’s Mark?” Jeno mutters again, glancing back and forth between you and Yuta, who are both decidedly not his brother.</p><p>“He and your dad went back to Pandora yesterday. I’m taking you to the Jung’s.”</p><p>“Fine.” He drops his embroidered leather backpack into Yuta’s hand, picks up his gear bag again, and strides off in a hurry, the two of you jogging to catch up with him.</p><p>“Well, that was less than pleasant. What’s up with him?” Yuta whispers as you trail behind the teen. You have no idea, Jeno had been his usual self when you and Mark called him the other day.</p><p>“He’s probably just pissed he had to leave camp early,” you theorize, then silently signal that you should meet up with him and find out. </p><p>When you’re flanking Jeno on either side, Yuta takes the first plunge, “By the way, you know what I heard today?”</p><p>You feign extreme interest, trying to draw Jeno into the conversation. “No, what?”</p><p>“Changmin and his girlfriend are having a blossom ceremony.”</p><p>“No way,” you gasp, not even needing to fake the surprise. You feel like you’ve seen it all here, the fanfare and the prestige and the long-held customs, except for this, the last and most precious of Neozone traditions. Jeno stops to listen to Yuta’s gossip, halfway to intrigued as well. </p><p>“Yunho was talking about it during his phone call with the Vice Premier this morning,” he divulges. “They’re having it at the greenhouses by the river.” Oh, that sounds so lovely. There aren’t many places in Neozone more beautiful than the azure field of cornflowers down by the sparkling river. What an idyllic setting to have your love to someone proven true in.</p><p>“It’ll be my first blossom ceremony,” you marvel, cheeks pinking with happiness at the thought. </p><p>“Wait,” Jeno asks, finally entering the foray, a twinge of nervousness evident. “You really haven’t seen one yet?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve lived here for what? 5 years?” Of course, people have gotten blessed and subsequently married during that time, but it was never anyone you knew. </p><p>“It’s not like any of us are marrying age, though,” Yuta points out, and though he does sort of make sense, you’re also not teenagers anymore.</p><p>“We are marrying age, dude, we’re in our twenties now,” you remind him.</p><p>He opens his mouth, surely with a flirtatious retort prepared, and then his phone goes off, in a piercing, pixelated tone. He checks the caller id, and interrupts, “Can we stop? I’ve gotta take this, it’s Father."</p><p>You wave him away so he can answer his phone, and that leaves you and the kid on the sidewalk, plunged into icy silence. You’ve never had an awkward moment with him, not even on the very first day you’d been in Neozone, your life has been filled to the brim with his endearing banter. To stand here in silence with Jeno means something is actually wrong, and now that you're alone, you need to figure it out. </p><p>“What’s up?” you ask as you playfully pull at the brim of his cap. “You’ve been weird.”</p><p>More avoidance, an averted gaze, and an, “I’m fine.”</p><p>Don’t pry, y/n, don’t pry. Fuck it, you’re going to pry. “Okay kiddo. Spill the beans. You can’t hide from me.”</p><p>You think he’s going to brush you off, to scold you for overstepping your position, but instead his mouth vomits, “Jaemin has a girlfriend.”</p><p>You freeze. That was not what you expected, at all. You give the most tentative, careful answer possible, wanting him to navigate from here, “Okay. And how do we feel about that?”</p><p>His nose wrinkles. “Weird.”</p><p>Your mind is running a thousand miles a minute and it ends up vomiting in return, “Don’t hate me for asking this, but is it because you like him?” Jeno shoots you the dirtiest look that’s ever crossed his face, and you hold your hands up in defense, “Sorry!”</p><p>“It’s not, I know it’s not. I don’t know, I never thought he was any different from me. We do everything together, have been best friends since we were five. But every girl in our class only ever likes him.”</p><p>You resist the urge to release an extremely saccharine <em>awww</em>. You’d wondered when this day would come, the day Jeno started to worry about the finer things in life. But he is the epitome of an upstanding young gentleman, you have trouble reconciling that fact with what he’s said. You say as much to him, “I don’t believe that.”</p><p>“Like,” he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to explain it. “I’ve never actually had a crush on any of them, so maybe I have no argument. But, I thought that…”</p><p>“Someone would’ve confessed to you first.”</p><p>His cheeks flush the same color as the tulips that line the hallways of his home. “Yeah.”</p><p>You’re filled with such a maternal rush of affection for him that you hasten to alleviate his worry, “Teenage girls are weird, J. As a former one myself, it won’t do you good to try and figure out what they’re thinking. It could be that girls find you intimidating, or something like that. You and Jaemin are very similar, but his dad owns a bakery, and yours is the Vice Premier.”</p><p>Jeno has the most handsome face out of the boys his age, all broad strength and serious brooding. He struts through the streets in the shirts you’ve made for him, elegant and imposing even at fifteen. It’s totally obvious that he’d be the kind of oxymoronic first love to the girls at his school, too beautifully unobtainable for anyone to approach. </p><p>“You didn’t find my brother intimidating,” he argues.</p><p>Your first retort is to say that you don’t think Mark’s even looked at a girl seriously in the time you’ve known him, but that would be less than helpful. You take off his hat, smoothing out his flyaway hairs, and gently continue, “You and Mark are very different, not that that’s bad. When I met him, he had pink hair and he was cute and goofy more than anything else. You’re handsome and deliberate and way, way more worldly than he was as a teen — if you ever tell him I said this to you, by the way, I’ll kill you —  And you know, that’s tough for girls sometimes.”</p><p>But Jeno doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even crack a smile at your rib of Mark. That’s how you know this has been eating away at him for some time. He’s not giving you much more, so you move the discussion elsewhere, “Okay, let me ask you this then: why did the idea of the blossom ceremony make you so nervous?”</p><p>He blanches, like he wouldn’t expect you to pick up on that, then unleashes a rather impassioned monologue, “I’m turning sixteen this year, the year when I can look up what my seed is in the directory. I know it’s not a big deal anymore, but I sometimes think it should be?</p><p>“How am I supposed to know what true love is? How am I supposed to know if the person I find is the person who will make my flower bloom? What would happen if I fell in love with someone not from here? Or if I fell in love with someone and didn’t make their flower blossom? I know the seed isn’t the end all, but every couple who’s unable to make their flower blossom has broken up.”</p><p>Whoa, you don’t even know where to begin with that. He’s bombarded you with a hailstorm of questions you’ve skirted around yourself, existential and raw and way overwhelming. Having no proper answers, you latch onto the last thing he’d brought up, “You don’t know that everyone breaks up.”</p><p>“I do,” he nods severely. “I’ve seen it happen three times, and each time they broke up right after. It either kills their feelings, or their parents disapprove.” Okay, it’s clear this is his biggest worry, the fear that he’ll end up with someone he loves but is seemingly not destined to be with. But you know all seasons of love are supposed to be experienced. The blossom in the spring wouldn’t be worth it without the toil in the winter.</p><p>“I’m sure there have been people here who have gotten married without having a ceremony," you say. You don’t know this for sure but you want to believe that it’s happened. And because you’ve been fairly distant from this tradition in your life, you can at least look it somewhat impartially, “It’s only supposed to be a symbolic representation of finding your true love, not some kind of supernatural life force binding you. Sometimes reality gets in the way.”</p><p>Jeno turns the tables right onto you, “You’re not worried about it?”</p><p>“It’s not something I’ve thought about a whole lot,” you admit, because there’s no honesty without honesty. “It’s different when you don’t have a person that inspires you to do so. There’s supposed to be someone out there that will make my flower bloom under their hand, but I have no idea who that might be.” There have been shadows of a man, perhaps whispers of a person. But there has been nothing concrete, not a moment where you’ve been struck by the hazy apparition of love to say, <em>there, that’s him</em>.</p><p>“I don’t believe that,” Jeno scoffs, poking right at your shoulder. “I’m not a kid anymore, I’ve seen my brother and his friends around you. Do you want it to be one of them?”</p><p>Damn this kid, forcing you to be introspective in this way. Do you want it to be Johnny, with the way he stokes the coals of rosiness in your cheeks, or maybe Yuta, who warms you to the very depths of your heart with his instinct for care? Mark could be a consideration, the closest thing to your twin soul in a man’s body, or maybe even Jaehyun, who’s sort of been along for the ride? The branches of you are surely reaching out to the sun of one of them, you can’t be sure of who it is, though.</p><p>“I don’t know. Do you think it would be weird if I did?” you confess in a hushed whisper, suddenly seeking validation from the teen. </p><p>Jeno shrugs, voice contemplative, “No. I think being around you made them better people. And if one of them makes you happy, why should it matter?” He’s really wrapped this up in such a heartwarming bow. That’s all that should matter, finding the one person who inspires the brightest ray of joy in your heart. </p><p>“How’d you grow up to be smarter than all of us?” you sniff, then hook an arm around his shoulder and resume your role in reassurance, “Don’t worry about this, a blossom ceremony should just be a party to you, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” he concedes as he leans his head into your shoulder, “Thanks y/n.”</p><p>“Want me to make you something to wear then?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” you confirm his hasty denial of your peace offering.</p><p>“Yes!” he exclaims, shooting you down again. “I love the things you make for me, I’d wear them all the time. But I don’t want people coming up to me only to ask if I can get them one of your pieces.”</p><p>You grimace, thinking of the earlier image of him walking down the street in one of his magnificent floral shirts. “Ah. That definitely doesn’t help. Add that onto your intimidating aura, bud.”</p><p>“Thanks for nothing…” he grumbles, swatting you away, but his smile starts to break through, eyes crinkling in merriment. </p><p>“How about this, I’ll still make you something. Undercover but snazzy enough to snag the ladies. And in turn you can’t let this shit eat you up anymore. Sounds like a deal?” If you can’t give him all the answers, you sure as hell can make him the snazziest teen in the city. You hold out your pinky to promise, and he links his with yours.</p><p>“Deal.”</p><p>Yuta jogs over, finally finished with the phone call with his father, and the three of you set upon your walk again. Yuta raises an eyebrow when he catches Jeno’s newfound chatter, but you only manage a soft smile of acknowledgement as they begin to babble away about baseball and other things you can’t keep track of.</p><p>Jaehyun’s father is totally excited to see Jeno on his doorstep when you make it to their home, letting out a boisterous, “Little Lee!,” and holding out his fist for Jeno to bump as he always does.</p><p>“Mr. Jung!” Jeno returns with matched enthusiasm, “Thanks for letting me stay here!”</p><p>“It’ll be nice to have a son in our house again when our own son avoids us,” he gripes, throwing some unnecessary shade towards Jaehyun. Yuta snickers as the Regent asks Jeno, “How was camp?”</p><p>Jeno puffs out his chest proudly to tell him, “Great, I think I’ll be top of the rotation this year.” </p><p>Mr. Jung pats him on the head fondly, sending Jeno inside after he waves goodbye to you, and then holds out his arms to dap Yuta up in a quick hug, “And, Yuta, good to see you! How is your father doing? Thank him, on behalf of the citizens of this region.”</p><p>Yuta grabs his arm in a show of confident strength. “He’s fine sir, thank you.”</p><p>You shrink back on the sidewalk, trying to conceal your frame behind Yuta as much as possible. It’s the same every time, the heft of judgment from the older man’s eyes boring right through you, so different from the eyes of his son. You’ve gone above and beyond in your effort to be polite, but you are left with very few options in how brusquely he continues to treat you. You’re not the same freeloader you were back then, not that that was ever a reason for him to judge you. You still have no idea why he holds it against you this deeply. </p><p>“y/n,” he greets shortly, with a slight dip of his head.</p><p>You return the favor, head moving only a millimeter, “Sir.”</p><p>You also have no idea why the thundering boom of his front door makes your heart peal in that particular way.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>You haven’t lifted your knuckles off the door in a knock when it swings open, revealing Jaehyun in the midst of putting a shirt on, gretting muffled, “Hey.”</p><p>“The kid came by to hang and he passed out,” you inform him, pointedly looking away from the effort he takes to get the garment over his torso, sarcastically parroting out, “Nice shirt, by the way.” It's a plain grey tee, hem lined with swirling, kaleidoscopic black detailing, a shirt you’d sewed for him a little over two years ago.</p><p>He smirks, “Thanks, I picked it up out of the trash.”</p><p>The two of you stand in his doorway, lost in seemingly parallel trains of thought, before you hear a particularly loud roar from the TV and you push at his chest, “Well, are you going to invite me in? Jeno’s got the guard with him and baseball’s on.”</p><p>He steps aside with a laugh, “Yes, Ms. Bossy.”</p><p>This has been your routine for so long now, coming over to blast Baekhyun’s greatest hits or watch baseball on nights where you’re both at home. Jaehyun’s already got the game displayed on his flat screen TV, and he tosses you a beer as you walk to flop over the suede recliner. He drapes himself horizontally on the couch beside you, clinking his drink against yours and absolutely tearing into a packet of uncured salami. </p><p>A pitcher with fiery red hair jogs onto the mound to begin the fourth inning, and you sigh in admiration, “Taeil Moon’s never going to retire, the old man has been playing for so long now.”</p><p>“He’s waiting to pass the torch to the kid,” Jaehyun says knowingly. </p><p>All this talk of Jeno has you itching to spill what’d happened on the way home from the train station. You hold it in through the rest of the inning, but the minute the commercials come back on, you’re pouncing, “I’m assuming you heard the news?”</p><p>“That there’s going to be a blossom ceremony?” Jaehyun clarifies, and when you nod, he does too. “Yup, from Yuta.” </p><p>You hadn’t even told Yuta about this part of the conversation, but you want to discuss it with Jaehyun, get his perspective, “Jeno got all riled up thinking about it. I think girls at school avoid him because he is who he is, and he’s only realizing it now. He and Mark are alike in so many ways, but I can see how they’d find him really intimidating, unlike his brother.”</p><p>Jaehyun doesn’t latch onto the topic of Jeno, but bounces it back to you, “I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like if you were intimidated by me.”</p><p>You laugh, “You think I wasn’t?”</p><p>“Wait, you were?” Jaehyun’s brow furrows in confusion at the revelation of your true feelings.</p><p>That sets your laughter off again, thinking of how you’d practically run away after meeting him, “Come on, the first time I saw you you were eighteen and buying a house on your own. None of that screams, <em>hey! I’m actually a lion cub who watches too much baseball and lacks self control when it comes to cured meats.</em>”</p><p>Jaehyun freezes with a round of salami halfway to his mouth, then puts it down in embarrassment. “You can’t judge me for that.”</p><p>“I don’t judge you for anything. Including your awful ripped socks that one time,” you remind him a haughty manner, then nudge him in the shoulder to say <em>just kidding</em>. “Anyways, I told him how I was feeling about it and I think I calmed his mind enough.”</p><p>“And how do you feel about it?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Excited? I’ve never seen one before. It sounds so…. magically romantic.” You can’t help your gushiness, thinking of how poignant and moving the ceremony will undoubtedly be, how fun it will be to dress up with your friends and have a night to forget the realities of the world. </p><p>But Jaehyun doesn’t share the same sentiment, only blandly muttering, “The couple waters the plants and they go poof. It’s cool the first time, but every time from then on you just want to hit the afterparty.”</p><p>He is such a Neozone boy, a traditional, secret romantic softy at heart, that you surely expected him to have a reaction akin to yours. You don’t hold back that observation, “Could you be any more of a Debbie Downer? Jaded Jaehyun? Are you going to make me make that a thing?”</p><p>“Do it if you want, but I think…” he pauses, contemplating what he’s about to say. “You don’t need a flower to tell you who your true love is.”</p><p>Another moment of pause echoes between the two of you as you stare at each other, the roar of the TV fading into little more than buzzing background noise. You’re uncomfortably hot, whether that’s from the knit of your sweater or the hum of his electric heater you don’t know, feeling the urge to look away from him but somehow unable to do so.</p><p>You cough a little due to your dry mouth, then concede, “I mean, I agree. But wouldn’t it be nice to just know?”</p><p>“I don’t care. And will continue to not care until the girl I’m with inevitably begs me to,” Jaehyun proclaims, leaning back on the couch and taking a sip from his beer. </p><p>“You know Mimi will.”</p><p>He rolls his eyes. “You’re still on about that?”</p><p>“Like that’s not her sweater over there?” You jut your chin over to where a delicate ivory coverup is hanging against the back of his dining room chair, too trendy to be his mother’s. Over the past three years, you’ve put in some serious work for Mimi on behalf of the match, but no matter what you do, Jaehyun never seems to cave.</p><p>“Her family has dinner here. You know that.” You do, you see their car through your bedroom window whenever they come by. He points over to the white sweater, “She sat right there with Binnie and her mom, eating fresh blueberries and talking about lipstick or something with my mom while our dads talked about the efficacy of steel in doing god knows what.”</p><p>“At least you have a girl in your life your dad can stand,” you deadpan. Arranged marriages aren’t really a thing here anymore, but if Regent Jung had the chance, you know Jaehyun would be engaged to Mimi by tomorrow.  </p><p>In a turn, he gets severely serious, “He mentioned you came by the house yesterday to drop Jeno off. I’ve said it a million times, I’m sorry for how he treats you. I’ve never understood it, he loves everyone and everyone loves him, but you’ve irked him this whole time. Maybe it’s because he thinks you lured me away from home.”</p><p>“I did no such thing,” you gasp in mock offense.</p><p>He finally smiles, dimples smoothing out in his cheeks, “I was just joking.”</p><p>“I get it, he’s your dad,” you relent, because you know how much Jaehyun’s father means to him. That doesn’t mean you have to take the high road, though, and you stick your nose in the air, “I would like to lord it over your head that my dad would’ve never done that.”</p><p>“Oh really? What kind of man was the illustrious father of y/n?”</p><p>You freeze at his question. The tender, untouched subject was not something you were prepared to broach this afternoon, especially here with Jaehyun. He’s heard bits and pieces of the truth over the time you've known each other. The falsehood of being from Zero Mile is the only thing you’ve specifically lied about, but you start to spill it all to him,</p><p>“I don’t know, every person believes their father is the greatest ever, but he, he truly was. He was my best and only friend, my teacher, my devilish sidekick. He’d bake fresh croissants on a whim, purposefully tear rips in his shirts so I could practice my sewing, and he would always make me sit and watch baseball with him. He loved flowers. He’d spend hours watering the tiny field outside of our house, and…”</p><p>“And…” he encourages you to finish what you were saying. </p><p>You can see it so clearly, your dad in his outdoor shorts and flip flops, worn hose in hand as he sprays the beautiful bluebells and orange zinnias, your mom’s wide brimmed hat covering her face as she sits in the shade. But as you blink, a lilac fog begins to overtake the scene, permeating it completely through. What were you doing? What came next? You don’t know.</p><p>“And. I can’t remember a lot more,” you confess, breathless with the realization. </p><p>You lock eyes with Jaehyun, desperation starting to creep up in you, “Is it bad? That those memories have been slipping away? I used to think about him, mom too, every day, to the point where it gave me unending anxiety. But it’s been five years now, simultaneously a lifetime and a heartbeat, and they’re just… they’re just. Fuzzy, beautiful dreams.”</p><p>You’ve got permanent rose-colored glasses affixed to your face in recollection of your past, which have exchanged the anxiety that overwhelmed you during your first year in the city, for the more appreciative stance you take now. You really should be asking Mark about this, if he’s ever had these feelings about his mother, but Jaehyun is the person you need to be telling this to. </p><p>“I’ve never dove deep, into any of it. It’s the kind of thing that would eat away at a person, and it did for me at the start. Why would they do that to me? Did they not want me? Did something happen? Are they hurt or worse?” You have this entirely separate life now, it’s as if your old one never even existed, and you don’t know how that could be possible.  Their abandonment of you never felt precisely like that, more akin to a calculated move, designed to propel you into a life they’ve intended for you from the start. You don’t want to lose the person they’ve built you into, but the people in your life now have played an equal hand in shaping you.</p><p>“And now, it feels like half betrayal, half gratitude, to think that they meant for me to end up here. To be here with Mark, here with you. It feels right,” your voice cracks in grief and thanks, because having the kind of person like Jaehyun here to confess these things to makes it hurt so much less. </p><p>You glance through the window by his TV, straight across the plaza to your beautiful home, the reassuring twinkle of the white flowers in your yard, and can’t avoid the wistful sigh, “I mean, I looked at that house for the first time and felt like it meant for me to live in it.” You gather yourself when you realize you’re getting carried away and take a sip from your drink, clearing your throat, “Anyways, that’s so dumb. I came over to watch baseball and crack a beer, not get deep about things.”</p><p>When you glance over at Jaehyun, that gathering of your feelings unravels completely into a mess of conflicting headiness at the sight of his lips parted with the heft of his breath, his slow hand meandering through his hair. But most especially due to the watery pizzicato of his own admission, “It’s not dumb. It’s not. I know it doesn’t make sense to you, that I love my dad more than almost anyone else. But if I was somewhere else down the line, parted from him by circumstance, I’d only want the fuzzy, beautiful memories to remain.”</p><p>The lukewarm sweat of your beer bottle causes it to slip out of your hand and nearly spill everywhere, but you pay no heed to it. Your fingers clutch at the arm of the recliner, holding you back from doing who knows what. Because Jaehyun understands exactly how you’re feeling. And he can’t look away from you.  </p><p>“Taeil Moon has done it again!” the cry of the announcer severs the moment, “A beautiful, two hit, complete game!”</p><p>You return back to reality from the dangerous precipice you’d just dangled yourself off of, pick your beer back up, and face the TV to casually resume a safe conversation, “He’s never going to retire. We’re definitely going to watch him head up the rotation with Nono.”</p><p>You keep your gaze firmly locked on your favorite pitcher, but can’t say with full certainty that Jaehyun does the same.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>The Jungs’ chauffeur drops Jeno off right on time at the end of the week, and he comes running over for a hug right away. Satisfied he’s fully back to normal, you poke his cheek and ask, “Are you upset you had to come home?”</p><p>He shrugs, handing off his gear bag when you offer to take it, “Nah. Mr. Jung is cool but he definitely misses Jaehyun. Or at least father-son bonding. We played catch for hours.”</p><p>It’s at least a comfort that despite his personal feelings towards you, Regent Jung treats Jeno well. You know that the boy’s listened in on enough of your conversations with Mark to know what’s up in that situation, so you sarcastically add, “You put in a good word for me?”</p><p>“A fifteen year old is not going to change his mind. You’re probably going to have to suffer forever if you keep being friends with Jae.” This kid seriously is way too smart for everyone’s good. There is a very hefty silence, a prick of distaste that marinates at what he’s said, before you sense the obvious <em>but</em> that he’d left out from his sentence.</p><p>“You can say it.”</p><p>“But Dad would be a good father-in-law.”</p><p>You explode with a burst of laughter, wholesome and sweet, at his attempt in being cheeky. You elbow him in the ribs, “Why, if I marry Mark?”</p><p>“You’ve only gotta wait a few more years for me,” Jeno proclaims with full confidence, in mockery of his teammates' infatuation with you, his attempt at a wink sending his eyelids seizing in awkwardness. He’s the most loyal to his own brother out of your group of friends, so if he’s doing undercover work on Mark's behalf, you’ll let it slide.</p><p>“You’re funny. Look, here they come!” you exclaim in delight, as you see the black Mercedes coming up the driveway. </p><p>Unadulterated relief runs through you when the car door opens before the vehicle has even come to a stop and Mark comes running out, tie lopsided on his neck but looking otherwise in one piece. There’s only one Neozone guard with him, and it’s even more relaxing to know that none of those stern Pandora soldiers had accompanied him back. You go running from beside Jeno to launch yourself at Mark in a hug, the two of your nearly toppling over from the force of your reuniting embrace. </p><p>“Hey kiddo, I missed you so much!” Mark squishes Jeno into the middle of your hug, the three of you beaming with happiness. </p><p>Jeno pulls back from the hug, still halfway in your arms, then peers into the driveway, “Wait, where’s Dad?”</p><p>Mark’s head shoots back, confused at Jeno’s question, “What do you mean where’s Dad? He was in the first car. He took the Porsche first and I came in the Mercedes, for security reasons, I guess. I thought he’d be here first, the roads were relatively clear.”</p><p>You involuntarily take a step out of the ring in alarm, severing Mark’s hold on your hand. A cold sweat licks across your brow as his words repeat themselves in your ear, <em>I thought he’d be here first</em>. You’re not even trying to hide your reaction, so of course Mark notices, “What?”</p><p>You’ve been sitting out in the yard with a book since you’d arrived here in the morning, too bored to stay at home. But there has not been a single other vehicle up this gravel since. You don’t want to say it, in fear of the consequences, but you close your eyes and force yourself to, “There was no other car.”</p><p>When you open your eyes again, there isn’t a dramatic reaction waiting for you from the brothers, only a confused glance shared and Jeno’s question, “What do you mean there was no other car?” </p><p>“I’ve been here all morning waiting for you, J, and <em>I haven’t seen the Porsche</em>.” Your purposeful emphasis on the latter half of your sentence seems to jolt them into comprehending what you’re implying. The Vice Premier never made it home.</p><p>Mark hastily flags down the household head as he strolls by unaware, “Heechul, Heechul!”</p><p>“Sir?”</p><p>“Did you get confirmation that Dad left from Pandora this morning?”</p><p>Heechul warily eyes the three of you, not yet sensing your apprehension, because his voice is still calm, “Yes, he called me from the road to say he was on his way back. Why?”</p><p>“Can you, um, look up both the accident report and the traffic report for Heaven’s Highway,” you request in a hurry. Heechul still isn’t really picking up on it, but he acquiesces regardless, flicking through a few screens on his table to gather the information. </p><p>“Both clear.” He shows you the map, filled only with the green lines of free-flowing traffic, then asks, “Are you okay? Why are you two asking about this all of a sudden?”</p><p>“His car,” you repeat for the third time. “It never got back.”</p><p>Heechul’s eyes widen in recognition, finally placing the emotion bubbling between the two Lee sons and you as nothing but pure fear. He puts a hand on your shoulder, but it does nothing to soothe you, and neither do his words, “Don’t panic, ma’am. I’m sure they’re still on the way here, so I don’t think this is time to worry.”</p><p>“What is going on out here?” Yunho's authoritative voice rings out through the commotion as he comes down the foyer stairs.  </p><p>“Michael’s car never returned,” you inform him, bordering on fully desperate now.</p><p>Yunho is the most composed person you know, even and levelheaded, and if anyone can calm you three down, it’ll be him. He flips through his phone, searching out the schedule for today, “According to the agenda, he left at dawn, right, Mark?”</p><p>“Yeah, I saw him go. But bee said that she hasn’t seen the Porsche.”</p><p>“That’s imp—,” Yunho starts, then goes silent to calculate the amount of time necessary to travel back from Pandora. The moment his knuckles go white against his phone, is the moment you know you are supposed to panic. His sentence barely makes it out of his mouth, “He should’ve been here by now.”</p><p>There’s a second, one second that you all take to let it sink in. Then, it all goes to hell.</p><p>“Oh my god!” Jeno gasps, hands coming to grip at his head. “What do we do? What do we do?!”</p><p>“I don’t know!” Yunho moans, fingers frantic against the keyboard of his device.</p><p>“I’ve gotta go back, I’ve gotta find him,” Mark hollers as Heechul attempts to hold him back from barreling out the door.</p><p>You act out of instinct, and reach into your bag to pull out a device you’ve neglected in recent times. The last time you’d been this harried to call the clandestine phone was when Michael hadn’t shown up that Christmas. You already have a feeling this is going to be so much worse. The roads are clear according to the map, there's been no devastating snow storm, and Mark had seen him leave. None of that adds up into any sort of positive conclusion.</p><p>“Who are you calling?!” Jeno yells at you, but you don’t answer, focusing all your attention in on the rings, trying to tamp down the hope that someone will finally answer. </p><p>“Pick up, pick up, please pick up,” you mutter to yourself as the tone repeats, and repeats, and then silence. “Fuck. Nothing!”</p><p>“Yuta!” Mark screams, at the sight of his escort coming down the hall, breaking out of Heechul’s grasp to meet him. Yuta catches Mark around the torso to stop him from falling over in his haste, dumbfounded to see you all like this. </p><p>“What’s wrong, what’s wrong?!”</p><p>Mark can’t keep it together, already close to weeping, “Dad didn’t make it home from Pandora. No accidents, no traffic.”</p><p>Yuta immediately springs into action, recognizing the severity of what that might mean, “I’ll call Father. He’ll be able to help us,” and sets about dialing on his phone. </p><p>“I’ll get on with the Security Minister’s private line,” Yunho yells as he turns to go running to his office, “Someone has got to know something.”</p><p>Though he’s not actually there, you can hear Michael’s final warning words loud and clear, <em>These are men under the Security Minister’s hand. Don’t you think if anything comes up, that there might be a tendency for loose lips?</em></p><p>“No, wait!” You call after him, everyone going silent at your outburst.  You heed the VP’s advice, “Don’t go to them. If you have anyone else you know that isn’t connected to the government, call them first. Security Ministry last, okay?” Mark snaps out of his daze, remembering the same words you had, and he bobs his head in approval. You will have to be extremely careful about this. </p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” Yunho nods sharply, and then disappears up to his office. </p><p>When he’s gone, and Heechul is preoccupied with looking up information on his tablet, you catch the way Mark’s eyes dart right back out to the door. You know him better than anyone, know what he wants to do, and you cannot let him do so.</p><p>“Don’t—,”</p><p>“Don’t tell me <em>don’t worry</em>,” he grits out.</p><p>You hiss back, “I wasn’t going to say don’t worry. I was going to say <em>don’t go</em>.”</p><p>“It’s my dad!”</p><p>“I know, and think, just for a second, M!” You grasp his shoulders to shake some sense into him. “You want to go back on the same road your father went AWOL on. If this isn’t them simply getting lost or stuck in traffic, you do not want to go back.”</p><p>You don’t have any idea what’s actually happened to Michael, but you can see it now. Mark driving in the Mercedes, back up what should now be named Hell’s Highway, straight into a fiery inferno of doom and vanishing from your life completely. It’s nothing short of a suicide mission without more clues as to what has actually transpired with his father.  Mark is ready to protest, mouth bursting with all the reasons why he should go. But when Jeno’s hand curls softly around his, he loses all pretense to do so. If Mark goes, and suffers the same fate, Jeno will be alone.</p><p>He turns to Heechul, voice quiet, “You two will keep us informed, yeah?”</p><p>The household head bows his head. “Of course, sir.” </p><p>You gather up both the Lee sons in your arms, needing to be the pillar of strength for them now, “We’ll go to my place so you won’t be here and worry. Call our contacts, sit out in the stellaria, and wait. He’ll come back.” </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>“Dude, are they good? They haven’t come in since we all came over.”</p><p>You glance out your wall of windows at Johnny’s voiced observation. Jeno and Mark are out in the grass of your backyard, heads bent together as they talk softly, the same way they’d been all day. They’ve been out there since before you’d woken up, still plagued with worry at the lack of answers. The other boys had curiously eyed the blankets strewn over your couch when they walked in, the evidence that the two Lee boys had slept in your home as you sat up all night in your room. </p><p>“Yeah, they’re chilling. Last bits of fall sun, you know.”</p><p>“Are you sur—,” Johnny starts to ask, but you cut him off, since Mark requested you keep this on the down low. </p><p>“Anyways,” you forcefully move on, “what are you clowns wearing to the ceremony?”</p><p>There’s no better way to avoid the potential trauma of Mark and Jeno losing their father than to discuss the frivolous event that is sweeping the city with excitement! Well, everyone except Jaehyun, that is, who scoffs, “It’s not for a few more weeks, you’re already thinking about that?”</p><p>“Uh, think of the nuance that goes into putting together a high class lady’s outfit! Tell me that you don’t think Mimi and the girls were already planning when they heard the announcement?” You know for a fact they are, because you’d seen them in the boutique downtown when you’d walked by yesterday.  </p><p>“Hey! You think picking out our outfits won’t take nuance?” Yuta gripes, like you’ve offended him. </p><p>“Uniform and deer tie. Uniform and bat tie. Suit and lion tie,” you list off, unimpressed. “As it’s been every formal occasion for the last three years. Am I wrong?” They have no argument to make, because they know it’s true. Maybe the suits rotate out, but the ties you’d made them stay firmly in place.</p><p>“Well, do you finally own a dress?” Jaehyun probes in retaliation, bringing up the time when he’d made fun of you for wearing a suit instead. </p><p>You can’t believe his audacity. “I was nineteen then and the only dress I owned was my prom dress!”</p><p>Jaehyun sticks out his tongue at you as Yuta offers you a very kind and placating, “Which was very cute, I’d like to say.” Yuta always knows just what to say at the right time, it’s his best and most captivating trait. To have your heart warmed over like this every day would not be half bad.</p><p>You can’t gush over Yuta in front of the other two, so you reel the conversation back in, “If it’s as fancy as people are making it out to be, I’m going to have to buy or make something.”</p><p>“Make it,” Yuta nods in approval. “Definitely make it.”</p><p>“No, dude, she shouldn’t, remember?” John gives Yuta a very pointed look, implying something you can’t decipher. The other man clearly knows what he’s saying, though, because he quickly amends his original statement. </p><p>“Wait make it, but like out of cabbage leaves or something! And don’t even think about wearing your hair down!”</p><p>“I don’t ever wear it down…” you mutter to yourself, not following at all where they’re going with this. Even back then, when Jaehyun tried to tug at the pin holding your hair up, he’d had to settle for it in a ponytail.</p><p>“Yeah!” Johnny chimes in, and Jaehyun shoots him a knowing grin. “Bun, braid, ponytail, repeat.  Keep doing that.”</p><p>“You guys are so weird.”</p><p>“Yo, to be honest though, I’m really looking forward to this. Aren’t you?” Johnny asks the group of you.</p><p>Yuta nods. “Yeah, for sure. I’ve been to a few here and there with the family but for no one that I actually know that well or that my friends were also invited to.”</p><p>“I love them. <em>Love them</em>. It’s literally the purest thing ever. It makes me feel like a schoolgirl every time,” Johnny trills, sounding more like one of Jeno’s teen friends than the mid twenties man he is. But you totally get it, a display of true love like this is not often seen. You have so many theories and predictions, and you know none of them will come close to touching what you’ll actually see. </p><p>“I’m so excited," you gush. "I really am. I can’t stop thinking about it.”</p><p>“You’re going to die when you see it.” Johnny confirms, then turns to his friend, “What about you, Jae?”</p><p>Jaehyun is caught off guard by Johnny’s surprise question, and scrambles for a cheery answer, “Oh yeah, I can’t wait! It’s going to be soooooo great. Changmin and his girlfriend have been dating forever, it’s about time.”</p><p>Ha! What an idiot. Is he seriously trying to lie to their faces knowing that he said the exact opposite to you before? Something that you have half a mind to expose him for, in punishment for poking fun at you? You need to get the boys in on the Jaded Jaehyun nickname, then things will really get entertaining here.</p><p>Johnny doesn’t give you the chance, snagging his friend’s arm and whispering, “Yo, wait, what are you going to do about Mimi…”</p><p>Once he’s pulled Jaehyun to the side and they’re wrapped up in the side conversation, Yuta sidles over to discreetly divulge, “Father called again.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Shit,” you curse. You’re running out of options, and as much as you don't want to resort to the option, contacting the Security Ministry is starting to loom.</p><p>“All I could gather is that everyone is operating as usual, no one has thought to even alert the Security Ministry that he didn’t come home.” That’s good, that means word hasn’t yet leaked from the mansion. “We couldn’t talk long because General Suh was listening in.”</p><p>Yuta’s efforts to go unheard are for naught, because Johnny picks it up, “What about Dad?”</p><p>“We were wondering how you were doing,” you effortlessly lie, already prepared for this. “It must be tough knowing he’s still out there with the rest of the troops.”</p><p>No further conflict has sparked and no more moves have been made by either side so far since the bombing. Both Elyxion and Neozone’s armies have been at a standoff since, waiting for the Premier to give some kind of signal. He’d paid his respects at XM with Michael and Mark, but beyond his speech asking for thoughts and prayers, there had been no executive movement. </p><p>Johnny nods appreciatively, letting out a tired sigh, “It’s tough, you know, thinking Elyxion could strike again at any moment.”</p><p>All of you bristle at Johnny’s definitive statement, but only Jaehyun has the guts to fire back, “Hold up, there’s no proof that what happened at XM was because of them.”</p><p>You can already sense the storm about to brew, their political differences starting to creep up. While they’re both sons of perhaps the proudest citizens of Neozone, Johnny is faithfully loyal to the region while Jaehyun takes a more refined point of view. </p><p>“It was the Night of Darkness anniversary!" Johnny exclaims. "Who else could it be?!”</p><p>Not wanting to get further into the eye of the storm of unrest that’s percolating in the nation, you slip out the back door to stand on your deck. You pull out the phone that’s been permanently in your back pocket and your finger hovers over the keys. It’s futile, to call knowing you won’t get an answer, but you have to keep trying.</p><p>“Can you please tell me who you’re calling?” Mark’s voice detonates out of nowhere. </p><p>“Ah!” you yelp in surprise. “Fuck. I can’t.”</p><p>“It’s my dad! Please, y/n, come on,” he pleads.</p><p>You’d sworn to his father you’d never divulge this to anyone. But it’s Mark, and it’s Jeno, the two of them standing beside you on the deck with the tiny white stellaria braided into their hair. This is an appropriate exception. “Your dad gave this to me,” you explain as you show him the device. “It was meant to be a secret, but I trust you more than anyone.”</p><p>“What is this? Brick phone?” Jeno wonders out loud when it’s his turn to hold the outdated electronic.</p><p>You and Mark can’t help the wry smile at his naiveté, and the older brother pushes his hand against the face of the younger one, griping, “You’re such a kid.”</p><p>“The original intention was for me to use it to seek out information about my parents. There’s only one number on here, the contact of a woman Michael knows. I don’t know how they know each other, or where she even is," you detail further. You’ve spent many a night speculating on who <strong>K</strong> might be, only to come across dead end after dead end, but she feels like your only hope. “My first year here, I called her once a week, and now I only call her when I feel particularly sad about them. I don’t know who she is, she never answers a single one of my calls. But she might know something.”<br/> <br/>Mark passes you the phone, convinced, “Okay. Do it.”</p><p>You hit the same button you always do, primed for failure. It rings, rings, ring again, and…</p><p>“Hello.” A tranquil, feminine voice comes through the speaker.</p><p>Your jaw drops. No way.</p><p>Mark shoots you this look like <em>what the hell are you doing, get on with it</em>, and it comes bursting out of you, “Oh my god, hello, hello. Do you have any information regarding the whereabouts of Vice Premier Michael Lee? We live here in Neozone, the city, and he was supposed to be home last night, we haven’t heard a thing—,”</p><p>There’s rustling on the other end, like she’s preparing to hang up, and it can’t end like this, it can’t. “Wait, please, don’t go! I’m here with his sons, I’m the closest thing he has to a daughter. We need to know if he’s okay, please!”</p><p>But despite your best efforts, the line clicks dead. When the sound goes, so does the beating of your heart, rushing out of you like you’ve been slashed with a sword. There was no reason for her to finally pick up, only to shoot you down like that. Tearfully, you lament, “Sorry. I thought maybe we had something.”</p><p>Mark comforts you first, resting his head on your shoulder and whispering, “It’s okay. You tried.”</p><p>You want to apologize to Jeno as well, but there’s some muffled commotion coming from inside and you hear his astonished little voice, “They’re yelling.” </p><p>You peer inside the glass to see Johnny and Jaehyun on the opposite sides of your kitchen table, absolutely screaming at each other. You can’t hear exactly what they’re saying, but Johnny’s got his hands fisted around the back of a chair and Jaehyun’s face is deep crimson, Yuta caught in the middle, completely flummoxed.</p><p>“What now?” Mark groans. </p><p>You explain quietly to not add to the fracas, “They were arguing about Elyxion again. John’s convinced that they’re responsible for what happened at XM.”</p><p>Jeno answers in place of his brother, who falls silent instead of chastising them, “Weren’t there kids from both sides who died?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Then why would they kill their own kids? It’s like Dad doing something to me.”  He is more observant than all of you put together, maybe even the intelligence agencies. Of course it would make no sense that Elyxion would target their own children. If it was truly them, they would’ve targeted a Neozone only university. </p><p>You shake your head, “I really have no idea, but I can’t figure out who it’d be otherwise.”</p><p>“I think we shouldn’t think it’s them,” Jeno states firmly, his shining morality coming through. “Dad always tells us we should be accepting of others right, Marky?”</p><p>“Yeah. Sure,” Mark agrees with his brother to placate him, but neither of you are attuned enough to pick up on his hesitation. "Let me go in there, try to cool things off."</p><p>You stand on one side of the glass with Jeno as he goes inside, and you feel the teen's hand tug you down to sit on the deck with him. He takes out a small sprig of white flowers from behind his ear, and uses careful fingers to tuck them behind yours. He doesn't have to say anything further, the light floral scent and comforting tickle of the stems against your skin is enough to convince you, that maybe, just maybe, that this isn't utterly unfixable. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u so much for reading! i have a huuuuuge chunk of this story all the way written out, but i'm struggling to balance work with finishing the end of the story. so u will get regular updates i hope but please be patient with me!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. centaurea cyanus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You’d been honest with Jeno when you’d said you’d not thought much about what your own blossom ceremony would be like. But now after seeing one, after this display of undeniable love, you’re consumed with the hypotheticals, where you’d have yours, what kind of dress you’d make, who would be sitting beside you at the table.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>slight trigger warning for the end of the chapter. i'm not sure how to explain without giving it away fully, but it's nothing too bad. light action and some blood mentions.</p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You shift the fabric into your lap, needle moving at a rapid pace as you stitch two seams together. Jeno’s watching some film for Coach Pyo on the couch beside you, Mark's dead asleep in the lounge chair, and Yuta breaks the silence by slyly asking, “So, you settled on making a dress, huh?”</p><p class="p1">You have, you’d found a bolt of fabric hidden away on one of your shelves and decided you couldn’t not make your dress. That's all you've been able to do in the past few hours, sew, and hope that the repetitive action would alleviate your worry. “I searched every online boutique and shipping wouldn’t get here in time. Don’t worry, it’ll be elegantly understated. Right kid?” You hold out your fist for Jeno to bump, secretly recalling the promise you’d made to him.</p><p class="p1">He chuckles in recognition and mashes his fist against yours, agreeing, “Smooth as a criminal.”</p><p class="p1">Mark is awake now, watching the two of you with shifty eyes, “How are you two so close? What happened while I was gone?” You’ve always been close to the younger Lee son, but after he’d come to you with his problems, you now possess a deeper understanding of his heart.</p><p class="p1">“I’m clearly the cool sibling here!” you claim, then loop your arm around Jeno’s neck to pull him into a smothering hug.</p><p class="p1">“Ew, don’t say that!” Jeno protests and tries to shove you off, but you only snuggle him obnoxiously closer.</p><p class="p1">“If she’s your sister, I’ll take the first dance at the blossom ceremony, thank you very much,” Yuta nudges Mark, who snarls and elbows him in return, the two of them playfully catfighting over the former’s quip.</p><p class="p1">This is the perfect time to drop that nugget of information you’d been sitting on, “I don’t think Seola will like that very much.”</p><p class="p1">All three men in the lounge go glacial, shocked to their core by your surprise drop of knowledge. Jeno and Mark glance at each other in intrigued glee, but that doesn’t compare to the way Yuta is completely shell shocked, mouth opening and closing like a fish, “What, I—,”</p><p class="p1">“Uh oh! Busted!” Mark hollers, finally victorious in shoving Yuta aside.“You really thought you could keep it a secret?! Come on dude, it’s y/n, she knows us.”</p><p class="p1">So, you had been right in your assumptions. This is something they’ve been keeping a secret from you, that Yuta and Seola have been seeing each other in some capacity. You’re honestly, totally miffed — you’ve been wanting to join in on teasing him about a crush for who knows how long.</p><p class="p1">“You knew?” Yuta asks, embarrassed at being exposed.</p><p class="p1">“She couldn’t look at you when we were at the train station the other day,” you divulge, simple and to the point. “As is only right, Jeno gets the first dance because he’s my favorite. Sorry!”</p><p class="p1">Jeno lifts his fists in victory, and chirps, “Jaemin is going to be soooo mad.”</p><p class="p1">His words are drowned out by the sound of others coming in from the hall, punctuated by a very insistent, “Sir! Sir! You should not be running!”</p><p class="p1">You put your fabric down, craning your neck through the open door to see who it is. You’re sitting at a weird angle, only able to see the nearest vase full of pink tulips. But soon your view of that is blocked by a huffing and puffing Yunho, trying to catch up with… “Dad!” Mark cries, just as Jeno does too, “Daddy! Are you okay? Are you okay?”</p><p class="p1">Michael is there in the doorway of the lounge, face breaking into a relieved smile as he collapses into the nearest chair and allows his children to hug him tightly. “I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m here. I’m here, my boys. I love you both so much.” Through the crack in Mark and Jeno’s torsos, you see all of it, the angry red gash across Mark’s father’s forehead, the deep purple bruise bloomed across his eye. You glance down at the only other part of him you can make out, his legs, and his left one is encased in a walking boot.</p><p class="p1">When Mark pulls back, he notices too, “Oh my god, Dad! Your face! Your leg!”</p><p class="p1">This scene is forcing you to flash back to his torn shirt at Christmas three years ago, the shadow of an injury you’d thought he had back then. You’re absolutely overwhelmed with apprehension - though it’s relieving he’s here, his injured status has only skyrocketed the number of questions.</p><p class="p1">“It’s just a scratch, kid. And my ankle is only twisted, not broken,” he reassures him as he cups Mark’s face, glancing behind him to finally notice you there. He holds out an arm, “Hi, y/n. Come here, sweetheart.”</p><p class="p1">You rush over, sandwiching yourself into his side, the hug fatherly and natural. The four of you sit hugging in silence for a moment more until Jeno’s teary voice breaks through, “Daddy, I was so scared.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t be, Nono, I’m here and I’m fine. I’m so, so sorry I made you worry.”</p><p class="p1">Dad and youngest son are whispering together when Mark pulls away from the embrace to march up to Yunho with a demand, “Who brought him?”</p><p class="p1">“They’re outside with the guards.”</p><p class="p1">“Kiddo, stay here,” Michael orders, but his words fall on deaf ears.</p><p class="p1">Mark exits the room in a complete inferno of fury, and you untangle yourself from Michael to go running after his son. Mark marches away to the atrium, you’ve never seen the affable man reach this level of consuming anger. You have to escalate into a sprint to reach him, to catch his vitriolic spit,“I swear to god I’m going to kill them if it’s fuckers from Ely—,” but the sentiment keels over in his throat when he sees who it is. “Regent Oh?”</p><p class="p1">Here is the most elegant man you’ve seen in your life, face all lean angles and expressive eyebrows, something about him familiar. He’s surrounded on all sides by the regular security team, but he bows politely at both of you. When he stands back upright, you're surprised to see a flash of emotion across the man's face as he looks into your friend's, recognition and relief and a dash of pride all rolled up into one.  “Hello, Mark.”</p><p class="p1">“Who is that?” you whisper. “Why do I know him?”</p><p class="p1">“He’s the regent for Oasis in Elyxion,” Mark whispers back. “I had no idea he knows me.” Oasis is the city Tactix sits closest to and is under the jurisdiction of. You remember Mr. Oh as a staffer of the old regent, he’d been on many broadcasts on the news channel your parents had frequented.</p><p class="p1">“Seulgi?” Yuta comes skidding to a halt behind you when he recognizes someone.</p><p class="p1">A familiar fringe of bangs peeks out from behind the Regent, “Yuta?”</p><p class="p1">You think to where you know her from, and remember Yuta’s look of confidence that night at Jaehyun’s twentieth birthday, how he’d spent all night kissing her. You’d been selfishly upset they didn’t keep in contact after that, separated by distance and status. But how is she here with Regent Oh?</p><p class="p1">“I remember you,” Seulgi murmurs, glancing from you over to Mark, “All of you.”</p><p class="p1">“Slug,” the politician uses a fond nickname when addressing her, “you know them?”</p><p class="p1">It’s such a commotion you don’t know what to do first, answer his question or reply to Seulgi or stand there in shocked silence, and Mark decides for you by shouting in an unseemly manner, “Can somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on here?”</p><p class="p1">“Mark!” Michael’s stern voice slams through you, before he softens and inclines his head to the other man, “Dohun, my apologies on behalf of my son. I hope you can understand.”</p><p class="p1">“Of course, Michael.” They’re familiar enough to be on a first name basis?</p><p class="p1">“You can stand down,” Michael orders the guards, who take a step back from Dohun and Seulgi, and he gestures them inside. “Please, come in.”</p><p class="p1">“We can’t be here for too long. We can’t be seen.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s alright. I need to explain to my children while you’re here. We’ll keep you safe.”</p><p class="p1">Yunho props Michael up as the two citizens of Elyxion take a tentative, but accepting step further into the mansion. They follow you back to the room, Mark still seething behind them despite his father’s warnings not to, Yuta mooning over Seulgi as she continues to glance back at him.</p><p class="p1">Yunho gets Michael settled a chair, the rest of you surrounding him on the various furniture, and he wastes no time in telling his story, “We left Pandora as you saw, right in the morning, with one of the guards from the Security Ministry driving the car and one other accompanying us. Heechul called to confirm we left, and after that… I don’t remember much.” He closes his eyes, as if to conjure up the image, and continues, “I woke up in the middle of the forest alone, looking like this, head bashed in, leg feeling like it was hanging on by a thread, unable to walk, unable to do anything but lie there on my back and stare at the clouds go by.”</p><p class="p1">That…. doesn’t answer anything.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, what? You were attacked?” Mark asks, unsure as well.</p><p class="p1">“I have no idea. I don’t have any whiplash or other expected injuries from a car crash, nor do I have any recollection of anyone in the car actually physically attacking me,” Mark’s father admits, pained with the trauma of the unknown. “It was my blessed luck that Dohun’s daughter found me while she was out. I’m sorry I couldn’t call, they only managed to get me to fully wake up yesterday.”</p><p class="p1">There are so many questions springing up beyond what had actually happened to him. Why was Seulgi out in the middle of the forest? What were the other guards doing? Had that call actually worked, actually summoned them here? Was <strong>K</strong> someone in Elyxion?</p><p class="p1">“Was it one of your people?” Mark snarls towards the two visitors, with no pretenses of being polite.</p><p class="p1">“Mark,” Michael hisses, but his Elyxion counterpart waves him off.</p><p class="p1">Regent Oh takes a moment to craft his words carefully, as diplomatic and politically correct as he can be, “Most of us are surviving, that’s it. Animosity we hold for the regional conflict is long gone, dropped for more pressing survival matters. Ever since the winter truce of three years ago, the Regents of Elyxion have been working together to establish as much stability as we can. But with this, and the anniversary of Dorado coming up, I have no idea what has, or will be incited.” You see through his veiled words - the people of Elyxion have been focused on simply existing, not wanting to fall back into the struggling times from three years ago. He doesn’t think they would purposefully blow a university out of the ground or harm a ranking official from Neozone.</p><p class="p1">“You didn’t answer my question.” You don’t know if Mark is being purposefully ignorant or needs to hear it given to him straight.</p><p class="p1">Mr. Oh starts up again, navigating the choppy waters of Mark’s intense scrutiny with caution, “There are… sectors… of our population that continue to take a very stark anti-Neozone mentality. They’re as traditional as it gets, who long to go back to the glory days of the Growl Conflict. As I mentioned, we’ve been working hard to secure the peace, but you cannot appease everyone, especially considering the scars that run deep across our borders.”</p><p class="p1">The interpretation of that is that while he doesn’t think someone from his region could do this, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. The Growl Era was Elyxion’s heyday, when they’d possessed most of the land in Dorado at the peak of their strength. Logic follows that it would be a goal for certain citizens to have the region return to those times by inciting conflict with Neozone.</p><p class="p1">“What does that mean?”</p><p class="p1">Michael finally cuts his son off from asking any more questions, “He’s saying he doesn’t know. And he’s right, we should not be so quick to blame them. We need more information.”</p><p class="p1">You have no idea why Mark is this upset, it’s his father, you get it, but even Jeno has been listening neutrally and politely. You’d always thought he held the same ideals. It’s a flurry of information that you’re going to have to comb through, but the more you hear the more you’re convinced that it wasn’t Elyxion. There’s no way Mr. Oh and his daughter would’ve helped out Michael if it was their region.</p><p class="p1">Yunho tentatively interrupts the tense discussion, “Sir, it’s the capital. The guards from Pandora have woken up.”</p><p class="p1">“Woken up?” Michael voices the thing you’re surely all wondering.</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” Yunho confirms, hand over the speaker. “They were both in the hospital this whole time. It seems as if you all were attacked.”</p><p class="p1">There is the first confirmation that Michael was indeed attacked. No freak accident, no wrong turn taken on the highway, an actual attack. There’s another question onto the pile, how did these two Pandora soldiers end up in the hospital when the second most powerful man in the nation was left for vulture scraps in the forest?</p><p class="p1">“I should take that,” Michael groans as he puts weight on his injured foot.</p><p class="p1">Regent Oh and Seulgi each take an arm to help him up, with the former quietly murmuring so he can’t be heard, “Michael, we need to take our leave. I am grateful we were able to assist you.”</p><p class="p1">“It is I that should be grateful,” Michael corrects him. The two men slap their forearms together, middle fingers tapping against the muscle there, in some sort of gesture they both are privy to. There must be more shared history there that you don't know about, the depth of their relationship seems to extend past those who had shared office together and nothing else. Especially with the way he'd reacted to seeing Mark. </p><p class="p1">Yuta springs up to help Seulgi, undoubtedly wanting to get a conversation in before they leave, “I will escort you out," and follows Yunho in leading the Elyxion duo away from the room. </p><p class="p1">“Kids, come here,” Michael beckons his sons forward once you’re alone, and holds out his hand to you as well, “Y/n, you too.” Once you’re gathered in front of him, like three ducklings in a row, he holds you in solemn regard and orders, “I need you three to make a promise to me. Do not go running wild about this.”</p><p class="p1">“Dad—,”</p><p class="p1">“No, Mark. I will not have you getting involved in matters we don’t know about. I’ll do the requisite investigation and we can discuss if I deem it prudent. We cannot risk fanning the dwindling flame between our regions, especially after Regent Oh so generously took care of me.”</p><p class="p1">“How did they find you like that anyways—,” Mark begins, but stops with his father warns him.</p><p class="p1">“Mark.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, okay,” he concedes, because that question falls under the umbrella of ‘running wild.’ Jeno nod, and so do you, the three of your making your swear to keep your mouths shut. There cannot be a war accidentally incited on your hands, due to reckless misinformation being exchanged.</p><p class="p1">Once the Vice Premier has your confirmation that you will not be sticking your nose in political matters, it’s as if he can finally relax, sitting back down and leaning on the fluffy cushions for the first time since returning. He takes Jeno’s hand to squeeze it, “I heard Changmin is having a blossom ceremony soon. Should we do a Lee family matching outfit?”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t mean him and his sons, he means him and his sons, plus you, and your heart feels so light it’s like none of this bad stuff even happened. You’re already scheming at his request, waving a hand, “I’ve got that covered. Don’t worry.”</p><p class="p1">He nods happily, reaching out to flick the end of your ponytail. “Good. I’d like to show off the thing that I’m proudest of.” Yunho comes to retrieve Michael for his call, and he’s halfway out the door before he turns with a statement that makes you and your best friend both blush a cherry, cherry red, “And take notes you two, yours will have to top this!”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The careful footfalls on your front porch cause you to look up from your sewing right into Jaehyun’s handsome face, hair held back with a pink headband covered in sewn pineapples. He settles onto the rocking chair next to yours and throws a thumb back to your house, explaining himself, “I saw your porch light was on and thought I’d come hang. You look relaxed today.”</p><p class="p1">“First time in a while,” you admit, knowing your peaceful state is due to Michael’s return. “The past few weeks have been…. weird.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re telling me. Yuta had to group therap-ize me and John before we patched things up,” Jaehyun groans, and you’re glad he and his friend have made up after their blowout fight the other day. “You want to talk about you?” he asks.</p><p class="p1">“Maybe another time. It’s too nice outside to get into things like that,” you brush him off with an excuse. Truth be told, Jaehyun is the one person you want to discuss the bizarre events unfolding with, but you’d sworn not to tell, not even him.</p><p class="p1">It’s really beautiful out for the dog days of November, cozy enough to sit outside with a blanket and your knit sweater. Time passes in contented silence between the two of you, you resuming your sewing as he rocks back and forth, mulling over what he’s going to say next, “We’ve been hanging out more than usual.”</p><p class="p1">It’s true, ever since he’s moved permanently up to the other house here  on the hill, it feels as if not a single day goes by without seeing him. “It’s hard not to when we’re the only ones who live up here.”</p><p class="p1">“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s definitely just mediocre,” you tease, and he pulls a face at you, mustering all the fake offense he can.</p><p class="p1">Speaking of fake, you have something you need to bother him about, “By the way, somebody was devilishly two faced the other day.” Jaehyun groans, putting his forehead into his hand as you first raise your pitch in a mockery of his false excitement, “Oh yeah, John, I’m soooo excited….” then drop it into the sullen voice he’d used with you, “Oh yeah, y/n, I just want to get to the afterparty.”</p><p class="p1">“Ugh, you’re the worst.”</p><p class="p1">“Why don’t you tell them the truth, it’s not like it’s something sinful to hate blossom ceremonies.” You truly don’t understand, it would’ve taken him way less effort to be honest.</p><p class="p1">“It pretty much is. It’s an Neozone tradition. Better for them not to know, so their dads don’t know, so mine doesn’t know. Do you have any idea how much of a lecture I’d get from Dad, even now?” Jaehyun lifts himself up in the pompous stance his father usually takes, then drops his tone in his own performance, “He’d be like, <em>son, this is a beautiful joining of citizens from our region, you should fully appreciate what it symbolizes.</em>”</p><p class="p1">You can’t help the giggle that comes, “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”</p><p class="p1">He laughs at his own ridiculousness, but then goes quiet, “Like I said, I’ll be appropriately excited for it when it’s my turn to have one, and I doubt anything will change.”</p><p class="p1">You’re so struck with this particular image of Jaehyun, a bunch of white buds stuck behind his ear as his face lights up with joy at the sight of flowers blooming before him, that you nearly stab yourself with the needle as you finish your sewing. You sidestep that thought in haste, “I’d make a bet with you but I think that is reserved only for Jeno. Speaking of the kid, want to try this on? It’s for him.” You hold out the white cotton, and start to beg when Jaehyun doesn’t immediately agree, “Come on, I need a male frame of reference!” You’d use your test mannequin, but it is currently occupied with something a bit more important.</p><p class="p1">“Fine,” Jaehyun concedes, being not at all modest as he rips his sweater off right in front of you as he is prone to do, then asking, “Did I miss a holiday or something?”</p><p class="p1">You don’t need a reason to sew Jeno his garments, deadpanning, “I literally am employed to make his clothes.”</p><p class="p1">“You don’t make anything without a reason to. I’ve had to pry my shirts out of your hands under the guise of the first day of spring and Children’s Day for the love of god.” It’s not like you didn’t know what he was doing, asking for gifts on holidays that didn’t even include that aspect. It’s just that you lacked the self-control to say no to him. The headband he has on? Boxing Day a year ago. Neozone doesn’t even celebrate Boxing Day!</p><p class="p1">You tell him the reason, the <em>real</em> reason, “Remember what I told you the other day? I promised Jeno I’d make something low key, something that isn’t the usual puffed up stuff he has to wear as Michael’s son.”</p><p class="p1">He finally has the shirt on, ending your suffering avoidance of his bare torso, and you pause, contemplating the finished product. It’s a simple tee in plain white. But instead of covering it in an elaborate design, on the pocket you’ve embroidered one tiny, saucy cartoon strawberry, complete with a winking face.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun confirms your silent question with his delighted smile, dimples fully popping in his face, “Wait, this is so fly.”</p><p class="p1">“You think?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s so different from the elegant things you usually make, cheeky but subtle. This would be such a fly casual menswear line.” He holds out the shirt from his chest so he can look at your detailing, then hits you with the most blatant puppy dog face, “Can you make me one?”</p><p class="p1">You have to put up some kind of resistance, y/n, come on. “No.”</p><p class="p1">“Please? Pleaseeeeee?”</p><p class="p1">“No!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun switches up his method of attack, sitting back down in his chair and scooting it so it’s right in your proximity, enough that you are bombarded by his signature boyish smell. “Okay, something else then? For the ceremony?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” you firmly deny him. “I’m busy.”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t continue to beg, only leans away with a knowing smile. “So, you <em>are</em> making your own dress.”</p><p class="p1">You have no idea how he’s come to the correct conclusion just off of the one denial. “I never said that!”</p><p class="p1">“That’s the only thing that <em>busy</em> means for you.” He’s won this argument, because you have no return barb for him. Smugly satisfied, he rests a hand behind his head, arm muscle bulging out of the tee as he lowly whistles, “Hooo boy, you’re going to have to stand in the back.”</p><p class="p1">“Shut up with that already!”</p><p class="p1">You’re tired of them making you feel like crap because you don’t make products for the general public. It’s been five years, how many times can you say no to Mimi or Haechan’s persistent requests? It’s getting grating, to have your friends joke about how you should be hiding away, when you really should have no qualms about showing your work off. Never mind that Jeno had already made you feel a little guilty.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun sees that you’re actually upset and he backtracks, “You know we’re just teasing you when we say stuff like that.”</p><p class="p1">“I get it,” you huff, not entirely mad at him, “you don’t want people coming up to you only to ask if you can get them one of my pieces, but—”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s hand closes around your wrist, stopping the back and forth motion of your chair. His eyebrows dip low over his amber eyes as he tentatively asks, “That’s what you think?”</p><p class="p1">It’s not what you think, it’s what you know. “Am I wrong?”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t clap back with a snarky answer, or otherwise correct you. All he does is stare for a second, face framed perfectly in the marigold beckoning of the setting autumn sun. His fingers twitch against your arm, and then his hand slips away.</p><p class="p1">“Stand wherever you want,” he murmurs as your chairs resume their synchronized rocking, completely out of whack with your erratic heartbeat. “I’m sure your dress is going to be beautiful.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The ball absolutely zips by where you’re sitting, and the radar gun you have in hand proves it. You jump in excitement and yell, “Holy shit! You just hit 75!”</p><p class="p1">Jeno pumps his fist in utter excitement after his last throw, running over to catapult himself into Mark’s arms. They bust out a complicated handshake and race each other over to where you’d been sitting in a lawn chair. You hope that when Jeno becomes a professional baseball player, he’ll credit you and Mark for the hours you’ve put in in assistance.</p><p class="p1">Mark tugs at the brim of his brother’s cap, filled with pride. “You’re definitely going to make varsity in the spring.”</p><p class="p1">You’re about to chime in with another compliment when Jeno’s eyes dart to the pavement behind you, “Is someone visiting Dad?”</p><p class="p1">“What are you talking about?” Mark asks, craning his neck to look the same way. You do the same, catching a glimpse of the esteemed chartreuse color of the Dorado flag on the pole of the silver vehicle entering the driveway. “That’s the Premier’s car.”</p><p class="p1">The three of you share a loaded glance, then break out into an immediate run from the gardens into the mansion. You snatch Jeno’s bat from him, tossing it into an errant conservatory before you holler at Mark, “Did you know he was coming today?!”</p><p class="p1">“No,” he calls back over his shoulder, “Dad didn’t say anything!”</p><p class="p1">You come skidding to a halt in the entryway, Yunho and Heechul already waiting at attention. Yunho shoots the same befuddled glance over the group of you, and answers your silently asked question, “No idea.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no time for you to change out of your athletic clothes or otherwise primp properly because Premier Kim and Taeyeon are already striding through the doors, accompanied by a legion of Pandora special forces. It’s a surprise to see them here, yet it’s nowhere close to the top five weirdest moments you’ve experienced recently.</p><p class="p1">Mark steps forward and bows deeply, offering his hand for Premier Kim to take. “Sir. It’s an honor to have you return to our home. Please pardon our appearances.”</p><p class="p1">The man chuckles warmly at the sight of your disheveled outfits and waves Mark’s concern away, “I’m the one who has to beg your pardon for the sudden visit. I won’t be here for long.”</p><p class="p1">“We’re sending the master up right now, sir,” Yunho informs everyone, taking his time to shake everyone's hands as well. After you’ve embraced Taeyeon in welcome, you set about making small talk to fill the time.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim spots Jeno’s glove, hidden behind his back, and taps him on his bicep, “Working on the arm, huh?”</p><p class="p1">“Of course, sir. I hope to make varsity this year,” Jeno doesn’t have any qualms of confidently bragging to the highest ranked man in the nation, his cheek rewarded by the impressed head nod he gets in return.</p><p class="p1">“And Mark, you’ve been spending some time working alongside your father?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, I have, sir. It’s been an eye opening look into the esteem our region is held in.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, good to see you.” You sometimes still can’t believe that he includes you as part of the Lees whenever he visits, amicably chatting with you as much as the two boys. He holds out the silk looped around his neck, the proud bear displaying its strength and jokes, “Do you like the tie I’ve chosen today?”</p><p class="p1">You also still can’t believe that the Premier is in possession of one of your creations, the only exception to your personal request rule that you’ve ever made. “Good eye for fashion, sir.”</p><p class="p1">The front door bangs open again, causing all the soldiers to take a defensive stance at the intrusion. But it’s only a huffing Jaehyun in his jogging gear, “Did I beat Dad here, I was in the middle of a run—,” he looks up from turning off his music to see the Premier and nearly folds himself in two to hide his indecency, “Oh my god, sir, I’m so sorry for how I look.”At least you’re all in the same boat.</p><p class="p1">Jeno holds back a snicker, yet Premier Kim remains very easy-going about all of your casual attires, “Don’t be, son. There’s your father right now.” He points towards Regent Jung, strolling in in a suit, and he waves affably, “Jefferson!”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungho!” Mr. Jung exclaims, the two of them embracing like they’re back in their school days.</p><p class="p1">“Kyungho,” Michael’s voice echoes through the entryway, and you all turn to see him limping out of his office. “Thank you for coming.”</p><p class="p1">Everyone’s gaze drops to the walking boot he still has on, though it’s only a shock to the Jungs, Taeyeon, and Premier Kim, the three adults exchanging a furtive glances. Did they not realize the extent of Michael’s injuries? He’d had a dozen phone calls to the capital in the time he’d been back.</p><p class="p1">Mr. Jung puts a hand to his head and gasps, “Oh my heavens, Michael, you did not have to walk all the way out here.”</p><p class="p1">“You may come this way, sirs and ma’am,” Heechul extends his hand down the corridor that Michael just came from. “We can have the meeting in the informal lounge.”</p><p class="p1">Slowly, the government officials walk over that way, at a pace set so as not to overwhelm Mark’s father. You lock eyes with Mark and mouth <em>follow them, </em>so the four of you children surreptitiously tiptoe down the hallway once they’re locked in the room, hiding yourselves away in an alcove where you can hear, but not be seen.</p><p class="p1">“What happened to your dad?” Jaehyun inquires.</p><p class="p1">Before you or Mark can stop him, Jeno blurts it, “He got into an accident.”</p><p class="p1">“Jeno!”</p><p class="p1">“What?!” he hisses at his brother’s disapproval, “This is Jaehyun, come on.” He’s right, Jaehyun is a person you can trust with this, his loyalty to Mark is unfailing.</p><p class="p1">Mark weighs the pros and cons of telling his best friend the truth behind his father’s injury, then ultimately caves, “You saw us pay our respects at XM, right?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, it was nonstop news coverage. Dad had me turn it on when he came over.”</p><p class="p1">Mark sticks his head out into the hallway, making sure none of the Pandora soldiers are anywhere close, then turns back and whispers, “We were scheduled to come back on the same day last week. He left at sunrise, and I left a few hours later. But when I got back, he wasn’t here.”</p><p class="p1">“That weird week? That was this," you remind him of the vague phrasing of what you’d said the other day. “We spent so many days calling literally everyone we knew, Yuta got the Lt. General involved, and nothing. Heechul didn’t know, neither did Yunho.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s face scrunches as he tries to understand, “But VP Lee is here?”</p><p class="p1">“He’d been dumped in Oasis a bloody mess, no memory of how he got there or what happened,” Mark reveals all of it, only slipping in one very necessary lie, “some Good Samaritan we didn’t know brought him home.” You don’t move to correct him, Jeno’s poker face doesn’t crack, there’s no reason for Jaehyun to know that Regent Oh had been that Good Samaritan, no matter how much you trust him.</p><p class="p1">He’s smart enough to make his own conclusions, “Holy shit, do you think….?” <em>Do you think it was Elyxion that did that?</em></p><p class="p1">“Dad doesn’t think so, but come on,” Mark’s bitter hiss is back, with the same salty anger he’d held. “He was unconscious across the border line? Who else could it have been.”</p><p class="p1">You’re half expecting Jaehyun and Mark to launch into their own edition of a political fight when there’s a very audible, frustrated yell from the room, “I’m not going to do that based only on conjecture!” You’re not entirely sure which of the three men is the one that’s shouted, and there’s a flurry of additional yelling that you can’t make out the words to.</p><p class="p1">You, Mark, and Jaehyun bend your necks out of the nook to see if you can catch anything else, and are only able to make out Taeyeon’s loud but very calm, “Michael, you need to work with us on this.”</p><p class="p1">“What the hell is going on in there?” Mark mutters.</p><p class="p1">“Guys, we shouldn’t be listening,” Jeno whispers, pulling you all back into the alcove before you blow your cover.</p><p class="p1">The prior conversation was not lost amongst the startling interlude, and Jaehyun sympathetically puts a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, “Marco, he’s the Vice Premier, everyone in the nation — not just Neozone, the <em>nation</em> — seems to hold him in the utmost degree of respect. He’s exceedingly nice.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t you think that’s why he might be targeted?” Mark pushes back. “To force him into making more concessions?”</p><p class="p1">It’s an argument that can’t be solved with this back and forth, both sides are equally as logical in their facts. Jaehyun’s side makes sense because Michael has fought for so many policies that have improved life for the citizens of Elyxion. But Mark’s comes from a place of fear, that his father is being taken advantage of.</p><p class="p1">“Shh,” Jeno warns, having taken over the lookout. “They’re coming!”</p><p class="p1">You discreetly arrange yourselves by the windowsill to look like you’ve just been chatting by the tulips instead of arguing and eavesdropping. The trio of men plus Taeyeon walk over to where you are, and Premier Kim takes his time to shake the other two’s hands, “Well, Jefferson, Michael, thank you. It’s always lovely to come back home.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no sign of conflict between them, in fact they’re only smiling amiably, and Michael nods his head in agreement, “It is indeed. Nowhere quite like Neozone, sir.”</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim takes a moment to peer out through the arched window, into the pink flower fields in the distance. “You’re right about that,” then he turns to address you, “But kids, you should really take a visit to the capital when you have time. It would be great to show you around now that you’re older.”</p><p class="p1">The four of you share a hidden glance, not wanting to let the cat out of the bag about your secret visit to Pandora for Jaehyun’s birthday. Mark accepts the offer on behalf of you all, “For sure, sir.”</p><p class="p1">Regent Jung puts an arm around his son, “Jaehyun, let’s see the Premier to his car so that the Vice Premier does not have to walk.” Obedient, Jaehyun allows Taeyeon to take his arm, and follows the two politicians out.</p><p class="p1">You and the Lee family stay behind. Once the last soldier has made his way out of the mansion, Michael calls his assistant over, “Yunho!” and gives him a casual head nod towards his youngest son. Yunho catches on to the silent instructions, and begins to herd Jeno away from the three of you. Even if the events hadn’t already been strange, the fact that Michael wants to talk to you without Jeno around definitely means something is afoot.</p><p class="p1">“Everything okay?” Mark tentatively begins.</p><p class="p1">“Yes, they wanted to discuss my injury in private. I reassured them everything is okay,” Michael explains, in a tone that certainly does not fully explain what had gone on in that meeting. He slips a hand into his pocket, double and triple checking that there’s no one else around, then pulls something out, “Have either of you seen this before?”</p><p class="p1">Sat in the middle of his palm is a gleaming gold pin, a hexagon of the shiny ore filled in the middle with the curling branches of a tree.</p><p class="p1">Yes, you’ve seen this once before, but you’re not entirely sure where. It’s lost in that haze of memories from your old life, not concrete enough for you to stick a pin in. Until you know for sure, you’re going to feign ignorance, so not as to set off something you’re not ready for. “No.”</p><p class="p1">Mark lights the fuse himself when he nods, “I have, it’s the marking Elyxion soldiers used to make on trees during the Growl Conflict. Why?” Okay, is that where you remember it from, your father’s lessons? The Elyxion men would carve the hexagons into tree bark to let their comrades know where they were headed. It can’t only be that, right?</p><p class="p1">Mark presses his father again, “Dad. Why?”</p><p class="p1">Michael’s hand closes around the pin as his voice lowers, “Apparently, one of the Pandora soldiers got into a fight after I passed out. He managed to rip this off his assailant.” That means…. That can't be what it means. Mark is thinking the same thing too, eyes going fiery with returning rage, and his father rushes to quell that,“Ah! Remember what I said.”</p><p class="p1">“This is proof!” Mark practically shouts.</p><p class="p1">“This is not proof,” Michael denies his son. “Until I have the men in front of me who did this, we don’t have proof.” He’s right, if this is a known symbol it could’ve easily been planted to make you think Elyxion had been behind the attack. “Listen to me, you cannot tell your friends about this. Not Yuta, not John. Especially not Jaehyun.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not sure why he’s singled out Jaehyun out of the others, but you have to inform Michael, “We told him about your accident.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s fine,” he lets out a sigh, shaking his fist holding the pin, “but keep <em>this</em> between us. Don’t tell the kid, especially.” He affixes you and Mark with a serious stare, one that you can sense the undercurrent of fear in. “Promise me. The blossom ceremony is coming up, it’s a time for you kids to have fun. We’ll deal with it after. Okay?”</p><p class="p1">This is absolutely not the time for such a nonsensical event to be occurring. It’s obvious from his reaction that there are nefarious dealings afoot, and that coupled with Mark’s irascible moods as of late do not generate a particularly happy aura. But Michael has done so much for you, and if it’s his request for you to have some fun in your life, that’s what you’ll do.</p><p class="p1">You grab Mark’s hand and the two of you make your promise. “Okay.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’re cutting it very, very close.</p><p class="p1">The blossom ceremony is due to start any time now, but you couldn’t help the ten minutes you’d spent taking pictures of the devastatingly gorgeous field of blue cornflowers sitting by the matching river. You give yourself one last once-over in the shining glass of the greenhouse. Smoothing down the hug of white flowers you’d affixed to the side of your bun, you enter the venue, appropriately satisfied with your appearance. Luckily, you spot the telltale group of guys right by the double doors, and rush over to meet up with them.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry, sorry I’m late,” you huff, then count them to see there’s only three there, Jaehyun, Johnny, and Yuta. “Has anyone seen Mark?”</p><p class="p1">There’s no response, and there continues to be no response, and you finally stop searching for Mark to look back at them. Yuta and Johnny are matching in their uniforms, but beyond that are matching in the way they’re gaping at you, lips fully parted. And beside them, Jaehyun’s smooth cheeks have gone an iridescent crimson, his eyes nervously fluttering as they meet yours. You recall the conversation you’d had with him on your porch and feel the urge to cover up your gown with your hands. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this.</p><p class="p1">You lamely apologize, feeling tiny under their gazes, “I know, I’m sorry. I promised I wouldn’t wear something I made, but I swear if people bother you about getting something from me, then I’ll tell them off for you.” There’s a flash of blonde hair from behind Yuta’s shoulder, and you excuse yourself from the group with a timid, “Anyways, I’ll be right back.”</p><p class="p1">You let out a shaky sigh, totally unnerved by the way they’d reacted. Jaehyun had said he was sure the dress was going to be beautiful, but his expression surely hadn’t conveyed that, with the way he couldn’t make eye contact. You’ve would’ve expected at least a <em>nice dress, dude, </em>but Mark will give you what you need in that regard. Surrounded by only Neozone guards, and thankfully none from Pandora, he’s standing by the entryway, regally handsome in his midnight black suit and eagle tie, identical to his brother and father.</p><p class="p1">You wave at him and his family as you approach, “Hi, sorry I’m late!”</p><p class="p1">But the expected three word phrase does not escape Mark’s mouth when it falls open in the same way his friends’ had. His hands are corded through with anxious tension as they fidget against his cuff links, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he blinks several times. You’re starting to get the itch to run home and change into something else. You thought you’d made this dress as understated as possible, so why is everyone acting so weird about it?</p><p class="p1">“Close your mouth, idiot.” Jeno elbows his brother right in the ribs, drawing out a grunt of pain from Mark, who quickly does as he’s instructed.</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t want to make anything obnoxious, so I thought pocket squares would do. I used the same fabric, so we’ll all match perfectly.” You reach into your clutch and pull out three squares of fabric that match your dress, cheery and bright in your hand.You start with Jeno, as you’ve done many a time, tucking the slip of fabric into his breast pocket, then do the same with Mark, who looks away while you do so, and finally repeat it a third time with Michael.</p><p class="p1">It’s a tiny stitch of color sewing you all to one another, poignant and perfect.</p><p class="p1">Michael’s voice is noticeably watery as he calls his household head over, “Heechul, could you take a picture of us?” then shifts you over to his right so you’re hovering right by Mark, instructing, “You two stand together.”</p><p class="p1">You’re going to have to add this picture to the row of frames by your window wall as soon as you possibly can, right next to the old family photo you’d taken three years ago. Michael is proud and tall in the center of your group, arms around both of his sons’ shoulders, facial wounds covered in makeup, walking boot concealed under his slacks. Jeno is directly to his left, grin split across his face from ear to ear, eyes almost closed into happy crescents. Mark’s hand is threaded through yours, your other hand grasping at his arm, heads tilted together as you beam.</p><p class="p1">Even Yunho stops to glance at your dress before he whispers in Michael’s ear, “We need to go in, sir. It’s about to begin.”</p><p class="p1">The Lees are surely going to be sitting in the front, as the most prominent family in the region, and you’ll let them take their turn in the spotlight without you, “You guys go ahead, I’ll stand in the rear.”</p><p class="p1">You slip inside before they can protest, feeling your mouth drop in awe at the opulence of the greenhouse interior. It’s been completely transformed into a crystalline display of luxury, lace draped all over the room, gold ornaments on display, huge, fragrantly lush bundles of white roses everywhere. Changmin and Hanna are at the front of the room, sweetly chatting with each other at the lace covered head table, wearing the same type of white outfits you’d once seen Michael and his wife in.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is standing in the back of the room, head craning to search through the crowd, motion stopping when he spots you heading in his direction, as if you’d been the one he was looking for. His mouth is whispering before you’ve even squeezed yourself in the space beside him, “Is that the fabric I brought home second year of college? From Spain?”</p><p class="p1">You allow yourself to look down at your dress, the ankle length skirt, flirty sweetheart neckline, and fluttery sleeves. You’d been at a loss for what to make, sorely tempted into ordering something, when you’d gone tearing through your fabric shelf in a last ditch effort. Only to stumble across the gorgeous peach silk organza that Jaehyun had toted home all the way back from Europe for you without you asking. And well, you couldn’t just leave something like that on the shelf.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” you whisper back. “I’m sorry.”</p><p class="p1">His eyebrow lifts, not expecting an apology, “Why? I brought it home for you to use because I thought you’d like it.”</p><p class="p1">Your voice goes shyly quiet as you admit to him everything that you’d felt when you’d stumbled upon it, “I, I saved it for this long but I couldn’t resist. It is so beautiful. I hope you don’t mind that I also made pocket squares for the Lees.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun stands up on his tiptoes to seek out his best friend at the front of the room, playfully groaning when he sees the splash of peach in Mark’s pocket, “Now you really owe me something.”</p><p class="p1">You should’ve made a pocket square for Jaehyun, too. It would’ve been nice to match him.</p><p class="p1">The room falls silent at the entrance of the aging Minister of Cultivation — the greying, wise elder of the city that is in charge of distributing the seed packets, and who presides over each blossom ceremony here. He is trailed by his assistants, Jungwoo and Chanwoo, who are holding twin porcelain vases and twin golden plates, respectively. Minister Lee comes to stand in the middle of the two chairs at the head of the room and holds out his hands to greet the crowd in a booming voice,</p><p class="p1">“Welcome, everyone. Today, we have gathered to witness the confirmation of serendipitous being between these two individuals, Changmin Shim and Hanna Kim.”</p><p class="p1">“So pompous,” Jaehyun tries to sarcastically joke, but you shush him, too swept up in the fanfare of what’s coming.</p><p class="p1">“First, bow to those who have given you life.”</p><p class="p1">At the Minister's instruction, Changmin and Hanna stand up together, unable to keep the giddy smiles off their faces, as they prepare to confirm their love. The couple each turns to their side of the table and bend at the waist to their parents, standing at the head of their gathered families. You think idly that if your parents are not back in your life by the time you partake in your own ceremony, perhaps Michael will stand in their place.</p><p class="p1">“Next, bow to the one your heart has selected.”</p><p class="p1">Changmin and Hanna turn back to each other, again bowing and whispering to each other while they do, both of them dissolving into infatuated giggles. This is the picture of what love looks like, two people absolutely beside themselves with joy to be with one another, so confident that their love will be confirmed in all realms.</p><p class="p1">“Place the seed of your soul into the nourishing soil.”</p><p class="p1">Each half of the duo picks up their seed from the plates Chanwoo has aligned in front of them. They clink their seeds together like they’re cheers-ing with glasses of beer, an added, charming personal touch. Then, they bury their flower seeds deep into the rich soil, smoothing out the top layer.</p><p class="p1">“Transfer the elixir of life to the genesis of the roots.”</p><p class="p1">A representative from each of their families steps forward with a crystal goblet filled to the brim with clear water. Changmin’s brother slaps him on the back in encouragement as he passes the cup over, while Hanna’s sister kisses her on the cheek, both of them flitting in girlish excitement. Maybe Jeno will do a combination of both when he does this for you.</p><p class="p1">“Give thanks to the flora of our land. And pour.”</p><p class="p1">Changmin and Hanna both lift the goblets to the sky, mouths moving in a silent prayer of gratitude. Then, they cross their arms, his right over her left, and shower the water over the other’s vase.</p><p class="p1">Your breath catches in your throat, as does everyone else’s.</p><p class="p1">Then, like you’re watching the most pristine summoned sunrise, a feat that should be totally unbelievable, two blossoms unfurl themselves from the center of the porcelain. As if beckoned by their partner, Hanna’s gorgeous sprig of baby’s breath blooms into cloud of delicate beauty, while Changmin’s sturdy sunflower outshines everything in its proximity. The couple shriek in delight, immediately enveloping each other in a tender embrace. </p><p class="p1">“As is destined,” Minister Lee proclaims, “you have found your true love!”</p><p class="p1">The entire room bursts into thunderous applause, but you can’t bring yourself to join in.</p><p class="p1">You’re not entirely sure what your expectations of this event were coming in, you’d heard so many conflicting reports, felt so many conflicting emotions. But you’ve never experienced something as lovely, as heartwarming, as this. You’d been honest with Jeno when you’d said you’d not thought much about what your own blossom ceremony would be like. But now after seeing one, after this display of undeniable love, you’re consumed with the hypotheticals, where you’d have yours, what kind of dress you’d make, who would be sitting beside you at the table.</p><p class="p1">“Jae,” you breathe out, aimlessly clutching at Jaehyun’s sleeve, “I can’t believe it. How could you hate something like this—,” you glance up in your effort to chastise him for his disdain when you catch the blank look across his face. “What’s wrong?”</p><p class="p1">He clears his throat, hands nervously fidgeting against his sleeves, “I, I’ll be right back,” and then he slips away from beside you.</p><p class="p1">You pay no attention to his weird behavior, focusing in again on the way Changmin and Hanna are posing for their parents to take pictures, carefully cradling their flowerpots. You want to be happy like that one day, to soak up that level of exhilaration in from your roots.</p><p class="p1">“Yo, bee!” Mark snatches up your hand, tugging you away through the crowd, “We gotta get in line for drinks before everyone heads that way!”</p><p class="p1">The both of you giggle as you go skipping along, hand in hand, to the heated tent they have set up outside of the greenhouse for the reception. You cut more than a few people than is polite, but manage to snatch up two glasses of white wine each and find a table. He puts your clutch in the pocket of his blazer for safekeeping, and you straighten out his tie with practiced ease.</p><p class="p1">After you’ve had a few gulps of the alcohol, and a few more minutes of idle small talk, you can’t keep your mouth from blurting, “That was incredible!”</p><p class="p1">“It’s something, right?” He’s as captivated by it as you are, cheeks pink as he leans his head in to whisper, “But between you and me, there’s too much perfume and lace. We’re going to have to tell Dad that.”</p><p class="p1">Could Mark be the boy beside you at the table, in your hypothetical future? You love him quite deeply, though you’re not entirely sure if you’ve felt the spark of <em>romantic</em> love for him. But it’d be comfortably safe, it’d be the true manifestation of the phrase <em>you should marry your best friend.</em></p><p class="p1">Content with the possibility, you lean your head on his shoulder, “You tease too much, bumble. But if that’s what you want.”</p><p class="p1">“Kiddo, come over here,” Michael calls Mark over to where he’s talking to another Neozone official, smirking when he sees the two of you together. “Sorry to steal my son, y/n, I’ll have him back to you in no time.”</p><p class="p1">As you watch the two of them together, it does make sense. You already fit into their family, already coordinate so beautifully in the pictures. You could sew Mark all the shirts his heart desires, wouldn’t have to fight Michael over letting Jeno pull all nighters at your house to watch baseball. Really, it’d work.</p><p class="p1">“May I have this dance?”</p><p class="p1">The expectant question tears your gaze away from the Lees, and you look up to see John beside you. He is way too gorgeous in his black and gold uniform to come sneaking up on you like this, and you have to stare away from him out of habit. You’re split right down the middle, half of you bursting with the desire to twirl in his arms out on the occupied dance floor, half of you itching to deny him, because you’d sworn to a different boy that you’d dance with him first.</p><p class="p1">Your glance over to Jeno betrays your inner thoughts and Johnny laughs, “The kid is currently busy, he won’t know that you blew him off.”</p><p class="p1">He’s right, there’s no holding back the girlish glee that floats in your cheeks, especially when his large hand closes over yours, pulling you flush to his form. Propping your chin up on his sturdy chest, you wrap your arms around him as he does the same, the two of you swaying back and forth on your feet. Even if the song picks up into a frenzy, Johnny is content to hold you like this, to move out of sync to the music at his own set pace.</p><p class="p1">You barely hear his soft question over the tune that is playing, “What’d you think?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, so amazing John,” you crow, still blown by what you’d seen, “I couldn’t believe it.”</p><p class="p1">“I told you. It literally is so magical.”</p><p class="p1">“It wasn’t just that, either. The way they looked at each other really…” you trail off, tongue tied with sentiment. “I don’t know, it was something else. Wasn’t what I was expecting.”</p><p class="p1">“Schoolgirl shit, I also said that!” Johnny agrees, holding out his hand to high five you, then resumes holding your hand. “Watching them would make even the most jaded person believe in true love.” Why did John have to use that adjective specifically? Using the word <em>jaded</em> makes you think of someone that’s not here, an action you shouldn’t be partaking in when you’re dancing with a man that enchants you so.</p><p class="p1">“I know. Really made me contemplate things that hadn’t crossed my mind before,” you murmur, totally off track now. Now, you’re contemplating if there’d been a deeper reason that Jaehyun had taken such a negative viewpoint on this event. Was his heart bruised in a manner you could not see?</p><p class="p1">“Also makes you think about things differently, you know, your future and the kind of person who would make it better.”</p><p class="p1">When his sudden quiet words dissolve into the lilting waltz of musical notes, you realize how far you’ve wandered off in your contemplation. You glance back up at Johnny, who’s totally taken as he stares down at you, and that glee in your cheeks toasts into something rosier, an inferno you’ve never reached. What is he talking about?</p><p class="p1">You feel a tap on your arm, and turn to see… Jeno, looking totally unhappy. “You blew me off.”</p><p class="p1">There’s an extreme rush of relief that nearly makes you dizzy, and you take a step out of Johnny’s arms, severing his hold on you. You take Jeno’s unassuming way out of this soberingly honest conversation, “Woof, Johnny, I’ve gotta make amends, big time.”</p><p class="p1">Johnny can’t be upset that Mark’s kid brother is the one cutting in, so he just bends his face over to whisper into your ear, “Find me later,” and strides away. You should’ve made your dress in a darker color, to better disguise the fire in your cheeks.</p><p class="p1">Come on, y/n, get it together and focus on Jeno. Stop being like this! And god! You should not be getting emotional over the fact that he’s nearly passed you in height! The boy stiffly holds you at arm’s length, the tell-tale awkward high school dance position assumed, and you know this is the first time he’s slow danced with a girl. No need to make a big deal about it.</p><p class="p1">“Hey kid,” you start, easy and familiar. “Want me to take you to Jaemin’s tomorrow?” Mrs. Na was planning on driving them back to White Limit so they could get some practice in at the new state of the art field there. You have to give him his gift, so you may as well tag along.</p><p class="p1">“Sure,” Jeno agrees, before he peers at you oh so curiously, “Is it Johnny?”</p><p class="p1">“Is John what?”</p><p class="p1">“The one of my brother’s friends you like.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no immediate <em>yes </em>or <em>no </em>that comes out of you. You’re fairly sure in the way you want to answer, but you need a petal’s worth more of reassurance before you lock your decision in. You wrinkle your nose at his bold question to hide your concealed apprehension, “One, I never said that I liked any of them, and two, even if I did, I’m not going to tell you.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re going to end up telling me anyways,” Jeno sticks his tongue out at you, fully confident that one day you’ll be spilling the beans to him. Yeah, right, fat chance. Not when he can use that information against you in a variety of quite odious ways.</p><p class="p1">“I doubt that. Are you having fun?” you ask, raising your eyebrows once to let him know exactly what you’re hinting at.</p><p class="p1">He smiles, no clue of stress evident in his expression or voice, “Yeah. After we talked, I feel good.” If a blossom ceremony is enough to melt even the most jaded man, you’re sure it’s done nothing but tenderize the heart of this sweet teen.</p><p class="p1">“Good, all I want is for you to be happy, you know?” you declare fondly.</p><p class="p1">“All I want is for <em>you </em>to be happy,” he echoes.</p><p class="p1">He is your best friend and little brother wrapped up into this amazing young man, and when he grows into the assured self you know is awaiting him, he’s going to do spectacular things. You smush his cheeks under your hands, eliciting groans of protest from him as you coo, “Aw, look at us!”</p><p class="p1">From behind you, there’s a tentative, “Jeno?”</p><p class="p1">You’re standing in such a space that you spot the way two apples of color sprout themselves onto his cheeks, and you turn to see a cute girl there, dressed in a willowy turquoise gown. </p><p class="p1">“Hi, Yeri.”</p><p class="p1">You step back with a bow, “The floor is yours, ma’am. I love your dress.”</p><p class="p1">It’s Yeri’s turn to go pink, surprised to receive a compliment from you, and the two teens awkwardly hover beside each other before Jeno caves and takes her hand. Ah, the throes of young crush-hood. You’ve taken a spin in that neighborhood many a time.</p><p class="p1">With Mark, Jeno, and John all preoccupied, you take a step back away from the dance floor, intending to spend a few minutes with yourself. There are a good number of couples swaying out there — Doyoung and Joy, as cute as they’ve been since high school, Binnie and Minhyuk, who’d she’d met in college and who moved to the city for her.</p><p class="p1">Even over by the bar, Yuta and Seola are giggling happily as they spin round and round, lost to everybody but each other.You’ve only ever seen Yuta like this once before, entranced with a girl to the point where his cheeks look like they hurt from smiling. He’d been the exact same way at that birthday party, so deep in it with Seulgi you’d thought you might lose him to Elyxion forever.You wouldn’t fault him for that, after all the instances he’s been warm to you, he deserves someone to give that back to him fully. Seulgi or Seola, you don’t have a preference of who it is, but with Seola, at least you have the added, selfish bonus of continuing to keep Yuta around you.</p><p class="p1">Speaking of being selfish, there’s a person you need to have a very selfish conversation with. You’re a droplet past tipsy at this point, aimlessly searching the crowd four times but continuing to come up empty. Wandering out of the tent, heels doing you no favors, and the chill November air not helping either, you spot said person sitting alone on the steps leading up to the empty greenhouse.</p><p class="p1">“Yoohoo!” you wave, being absolutely and totally obnoxious. “Jaded Jaehyun!”</p><p class="p1">“Do you have to call me that?” he groans when he sees and hears you coming, though he does let you collapse on the concrete next to him, legs splaying all over the place, skirt falling over his legs.</p><p class="p1">You poke at his forehead, “I don’t know, do you still feel the same way?”</p><p class="p1">This is the question you selfishly want to know the answer to, whether his jaded heart had dissolved away into the tender one that had so long been a hallmark of who he is. He keeps his mouth shut, not even looking at you when you keep poking at him. You wait, wait some more, and even still he remains silent, so you attempt a different approach, “Have you looked it up?”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">“Your seed. Have you looked it up in the seed directory?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” he divulges simply, not adding anything on but his follow-up question, “Have you?”</p><p class="p1">You’re having trouble getting air into your lungs when you admit, “No. But I might want to after tonight.” You want to know it, you want to know it all, the genus, the species, what commentary your beautiful flower will pass on your soul. You hope looking up your seed in the directory will give you a hint as to the spot where your tossed heart might land.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun scoffs, totally unsurprised by your about-face, “I just knew you were going to be a sucker for this. Who made you change your mind? Mark? John? Yuta?” He pushes you back on your forehead, nearly sending you tumbling down the stairs, “You should go back in there, maybe get a fat one laid on you for the first time.”</p><p class="p1">He’s echoed the words you’d slung at him when he was twenty and still a green faced kid in his second year of college. You’re newly twenty three and have graduated with a degree in design, not green at all, so is he purposefully being an idiot? Of course you’ve kissed boys — at a minimum, there was Jackson behind the fine arts building freshman year and JB at an on-campus party you’d happened to be at. You remember this is something you’ve never brought up with Jaehyun. You’ve told Mark, sure, but never the boy right next to you. Why haven’t you told him about these incidences?</p><p class="p1">“You think I haven’t kissed boys before?”</p><p class="p1">“Have you?” Jaehyun asks, finally turning his head to look at you, and it is a mistake for you to do the same.</p><p class="p1">It’s a mistake because you’re drunk and neither the glow of his pretty amber eyes nor the way his curled hair gently blows in the breeze do anything to alleviate that. It’s a mistake because allowing his gaze to roam over you makes you realize you had never brought up the boys you’d kissed because you never wanted him to find out. Because while it didn’t happen with Jackson, there had been a certain, distinct moment when JB had pulled his mouth away from yours and a thought had bombarded its way into your mind. <em>What would Jaehyun think of this?</em></p><p class="p1">“Do either of you have five dollars?”</p><p class="p1">Both of you flinch quite violently on the step, a cascade of gooseflesh scattering across your shoulders, and you glance back to see, “Jeno! What, in god’s name, do you want five dollars for?”</p><p class="p1">He and Jaemin shoot each other looks like <em>what the hell did we just walk into</em>, but that’s quickly tossed aside in favor of their mission, “We’re going to get ice cream!”</p><p class="p1">You want to question him, knowing there’s an extravagant display of desserts inside, but there are other pressing matters at hand, so you shrug and cave, “You know what, I’m not even going to ask.” You dig through the pockets you’d sewn into the folds of your skirt, and curse out loud when you come up empty, “Ah, fuck. Mark has my wallet.”</p><p class="p1">“Here you go, get a double scoop for me,” Jaehyun opens his wallet to pull out a bill and send the kids away.</p><p class="p1">But you spot something and you steal the leather right out of his hands after he's handed the money over. There is the stack of crisp dollars, his credit cards neatly lined up by order of usage frequency. His driver’s license is in the right side’s clear pocket, and in the left’s? In the left pocket is the picture you’d given to him for his birthday.</p><p class="p1">“Wait. Why do you still have this in there?” you question, totally dumbfounded at your discovery.</p><p class="p1">You’d given him the picture of you two as a total throwaway gift, after your blundering, disastrous attempt at concealing why you’d traveled up for the celebration in the first place. He should’ve seen right through it, and thrown it away or kept it tucked out of sight in a drawer out of politeness. But no, you’re staring at your young faces, clumsily cheerful as you’d stood close but not quite close enough to touch. When you peer up at Jaehyun’s face now, it can’t be possible that he’s still wearing the same expression, can it?</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, I—,” his lips open and close nervously, large hand coming to loosen his tie in distress.</p><p class="p1">Mimi comes striding down the pathway, lavender satin of her dress swirling around her ankles in her hurry. Once she’s within earshot she shouts, “Hyunie, there you are! It’s the last dance, let’s go!”</p><p class="p1">She beckons him with her hand in haste, and Jaehyun lets out a low breath. He glances once more at you, as if he’s asking your permission, and you shrug, because you have no say over whether he should go or not. As he takes his time standing up, Mimi calls to you next, “Y/n! I love your dress!”</p><p class="p1">“Thanks, Mimi!” you drunkenly wave at them as he walks over to her and escorts her back to the party, “You too!”</p><p class="p1">Dropping your head into your knees, you expel as deep a breath as Jaehyun just did, that whole encounter doing absolutely jack shit to arrest the incessant beating of your heart. Mimi had the right idea, you should make your way back to the tent, say your perfunctory goodbyes, and get home as fast as you can, because there is something you need to do. Holding your arms out to steady yourself as you get up from the staircase, you take your wobbly steps back up the trail to the tent. However, you only make it halfway through your first task before you’re accosted again. People! Can’t you have one uninterrupted moment tonight?!</p><p class="p1">It’s Johnny this time, mouth curving up into a fond smile when he spots you, “Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you all night.”</p><p class="p1">Right, the lascivious whisper that had dipped into your ear, a tantalizing to be continued. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I forgot you asked me to find you later. What’s up?”</p><p class="p1">Johnny doesn’t answer with his mouth in the way you expect. Instead, you find yourself pressed up against one of the marble columns that lines the walkway, his arm around your waist, the other braced against the wall behind you. Your first instinct is to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, because the purse of his lips gives it all away, that he’s intending to kiss you right now.</p><p class="p1">But you’re curious about something, so you let him.</p><p class="p1">The man in front of you doesn’t hold anything back, melding his mouth with yours the instant your defenses fall away, your eyes slamming shut at the level of ardor he presses into the gesture. You’ve imagined what kissing him would be like idly once, twice, maybe even three times, but it’s nothing like this, his lips moving at one angle and another, delicious and greedy, wasting no time in sweeping his tongue right into your mouth.</p><p class="p1">You’re in too much of a frenzy to keep up, the moment you truly register you’re kissing John right now, his lips part from yours at a distance that cannot technically be measured, and he pleads tenderly, “You want to go out sometime? Please.”</p><p class="p1">This is the same question he’s always asked you, now placed in an entirely different frame of reference. You have the answer poised precariously on the tip of your tongue, then your auditory senses absolutely explode, “Jonathan Suh, what in god’s good name is this?!”</p><p class="p1">This is the worst disturbance of the night, because General Suh is right here, back from the front lines for the celebration, watching you kiss his son.</p><p class="p1">“Dad, I—,” Johnny stutters, shifting his body so he can cover you.</p><p class="p1">General Suh continues his yelling, “This is completely unacceptable behavior for someone of your status! Can you imagine what people would say if you were seen with someone…”</p><p class="p1">You slip out from under Johnny’s arm before you can hear the rest of it. Normally, you’d stay and allow this argument to play out, to defend yourself against the phony insults John’s father tosses your way. But you cannot right now. That petal you were searching for earlier? You have it now.</p><p class="p1">Forgoing all your plans to say goodbye to your friends, or even retrieve your purse from Mark, you run out into the parking lot and get into one of the waiting cabs. As if you’re radiating urgency, the driver gets you home in no time at all, and you hurry yourself along by not even bothering to take your shoes off once you get inside your house. You run like a baby stork all the way over to your desk in the corner and fire up the computer, totally wrinkling the flowing skirt of your dress as you fold yourself into the chair.</p><p class="p1">Your fingers tap impatiently against the wood as the device powers up, and you yell at it in frustration when it takes a few minutes to update. As if on autopilot, the moment your screen appears you’re opening up the web browser, typing in the site domain that everyone knows, and soon, you’re staring at the login for the Neozone Seed Directory.</p><p class="p1">This is it, there’s no going back, whatever you find out here is sure to bring you the unambiguous truth you crave.</p><p class="p1">You type your government ID number into the field, and enter the directory. Your profile page pops up, sterile and white, punctuated only by a few lines of information and the peek of an identifying photo hidden away at the bottom of the screen. Your eyes skim by your full name and your date of birth, skipping the report of your family bloodline entirely, mind only idly noting that your place of birth is listed at the hospital that’s on the outskirts of the city.</p><p class="p1">But before you scroll all the way down to the bottom, to pull back the curtain of the defining moment of your life, you pause to think. Surely your flower would be the forget-me-not, right? The pastel periwinkle petals, symbols of undying true love, encompass what you’re wrapped up in after the night you’ve had. Perhaps it might be the bluebell, like the ones blooming on your sink counter from the seeds Jeno had gifted you. You’re even willing to be completely and utterly cliché and hope that your flower is the red rose. Whatever flower it is, you’re convinced of the fact that it will be the exact representation of your heart.</p><p class="p1">Your hand gives one shake on the mouse, and then you scroll down. An astonished, jubilant, breathless little smile piques its way onto your mouth when the beautiful flower comes into view. But it’s not the forget-me-not, the red rose, or even the Tactix bluebell.</p><p class="p1">It’s. It’s more perfect than you could’ve ever imagined.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Jeno Lee, I swear to god if Mrs. Na yells at me because we’re late!” You can’t believe it’s still the same with him, always the same shouted threat because he can’t ever do anything on time. “I’m not nineteen anymore, I can only take so much of her bull— crap!”</p><p class="p1">Jeno jogs down the hallway in his athletic clothes, not slow enough to catch you policing your own tone, “You can say shit, it doesn’t bother me.”</p><p class="p1">You take the leather bag you’d made from him as you compose your voice into Yunho’s even keeled tone, “We have to be proper, you know.” Jeno’s boisterous laugh rings out into the sleepy autumn morning as you leave the mansion, and you pull out a mass of fabric from your bag, tossing it his way, “I got something for you.”</p><p class="p1">He catches it with easy confidence, then his eyes light up with recognition. “Our deal?”</p><p class="p1">“Cute enough that the girls will swoon to the ground and subtle enough that the boys won’t clown,” you quip, earning yourself an annoyed shove from the teen, unappreciative of your joking rhyme.</p><p class="p1">Jeno stops on the deserted corner to unfurl the shirt, holding it up in front of his face so you can’t catch his reaction. You hope this is something along the lines of what he’d been envisioning. It’d been hard to put yourself into headspace of a teenage boy, but you’d thought this was appropriate enough, and you’d gotten the seal of approval from a former teenage boy. You ask, nervous, “You like it? Jaehyun tried it on and nearly begged me for one.”</p><p class="p1">“Like it?” His head peeks around the armpit of the shirt, eyes folding into half moons as he smiles. “I love it! It’s perfect.” Right away, he takes off his outer tee to put your shirt on over his Under Armour base layer. When he proudly puffs out his chest pocket, it’s like the cartoon strawberry actually winks at you. You shouldn’t have been nervous, you know him and what he likes.</p><p class="p1">“Not like you needed my help to snag the ladies, huh?” you badger Jeno, sly and coy as you think of how flustered he’d been when Yeri had approached him last night.</p><p class="p1">There’s the blush again as he looks away, “Shut up.”</p><p class="p1">“Nuh uh, you tease me, I tease you.”</p><p class="p1">“So you don’t want me to ask you about why Jaehyun was trying on my clothes?”</p><p class="p1">Jeno, no, why would you do this? This is the consequence of going tit for tat with the precocious kid, him bringing up the subject that has a stranglehold over you. You’d been agitated when he’d brought up Johnny last night, and him mentioning Jaehyun now is perhaps even worse. All you can do is blink in slow motion, trying to quell your disloyal mouth into a weak, “We’re neighbors!”</p><p class="p1">“Right, and I’m Taeil Moon,” Jeno deadpans, full of sarcastic disbelief at your feeble protest. He unzips the bag looped around your arm to put away his original shirt, mouth turning into a frown when he looks inside,“Oh, I forgot my Conan socks. They’re my lucky ones.”</p><p class="p1">He knows just what to say to get you to forgive him, huh? He’s held onto those Conan socks faithfully, wearing them each time he starts in a game. You reach out to ruffle his hair and offer, “Let me run back and get them.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay!” He takes the chance to flick your ponytail in return, with you laughing as you duck out of his way.</p><p class="p1">Hefting his bag over your shoulder, you leave him there on the street corner as you take the two minute jog back to the entryway of the mansion. As you start to punch in the key to unlock the gate in front of the driveway, you leisurely contemplate what you’ll sew Jeno for Christmas. Maybe you’ll make him another one of those casual tees, but replace the strawberry with Conan’s face. He’s been saying anime is popular again at his school - you’ll have to confirm with Jaehyun that it’s a good idea, but you think Jeno will love it.</p><p class="p1">You have your fingers on the final digit of the entry code when there’s an ear piercing shriek that stabs right through you, “Help!”</p><p class="p1">The straps of his bag and your purse go flying from your arm as you whirl around in horror, eyes frantically trying to pick out where that scared yell had come from. That gives you the most grotesque angle of the scene possible, of a huge man dressed head to toe in black hitting Jeno square across the head with the block handle of a large knife. The young boy starts to collapse and before he hits the floor, he’s snatched up and tossed over the shoulder of a medium thug that materializes.</p><p class="p1">The two of them begin speeding down the sidewalk. You don’t even register you’re running after them until you look down and your feet are a blur. “Jeno! Jeno!” you scream like a madwoman, giving the chase of your life, “What the fuck!”</p><p class="p1">You didn’t even stop to alert security or go back in the mansion, you can’t wait for that, they had to have heard his scream, they had to. You can’t let him disappear from your sight. You’re in protector mode, your sole purpose of existing in this moment is to rescue Jeno from his assailants. Where the hell are they taking him? Why isn’t there a single other person out on the streets right now? It’s early, it’s still six fifteen, but there should be someone!</p><p class="p1">The soles of your feet start to scorch with the friction of hitting the pavement that frequently, and you’re frustratingly not closing the gap at all. By some supernatural grace, you can still see them, see the way Jeno is not exerting any effort in resisting, body totally limp. You also see the crimson droplets of blood spattered across the sidewalk, leading you right to him, like the most horrible Hansel &amp; Gretel story come to life. You scramble to a stop behind the big oak tree in front of the train station. You need to collect yourself, because if you step out right now, you’ll be in plain view. But there’s no collection able to be done, there's only cold nausea clogging into your throat as you see the locomotive that’s waiting at the platform. They don’t start bringing the trains in until seven thirty, for the first trip of the day to leave at eight.</p><p class="p1">The goons continue on across the road, Jeno still flopping limply against the bigger one. You wait, the most harrowing fifteen seconds of your life, as they sprint up the wooden platform, toss Jeno into the train through the door that they unlock, and climb in themselves. Then it’s like you’re shot out of a cannon, racing for your life across the street and through the parking lot, taking the platform steps three at a time to reach the door.</p><p class="p1">You try to heave it open with all your might, but it doesn’t budge, firmly ironed into place. You let out a roar of frustration as the engine starts to bellow with escaping steam, you only have a few minutes left before it’s at the point that the train can roll away. The only other door you can reach from your vantage point is also bolted shut, causing the salty tears to leak from your eyes. Your head swivels back and forth, trying to find any other remote possibility of entering the train, and then you see it. One window, potentially wide enough to fit through.</p><p class="p1">You’re empty handed, you’d dropped Jeno’s bats by accident in your stupefaction at the mansion, you don’t have any means of breaking the glass. But you do. As the engine whistles, you whip off your sweater, leaving you shivering in your sleeveless dress, and you rip a strip of fabric to wrap around your fist.You scramble up onto the wooden railing, window at eye level, and pull your arm back. You’re not appropriately sized to exert any level of strong force, but the concoction of your sheer determination, adrenaline, and fear propels your fist right against the glass.</p><p class="p1">You howl in pain the moment your hand connects, the strength of the transparent material sending a white hot detonation of agony across your knuckles. That only fuels you, and you begin to smash your fist against the window again, and again, and again, screeching like an absolute madwoman in the hopes that someone will see and come help you. The engine whistles again and you pick up your pace, your pummeling only generating tiny cracks in the covering.</p><p class="p1">“Come on!” you scream, desperation sweeping through you. “Fucking break!”</p><p class="p1">You slam your fist against the glass one more time, and the supernatural grace pulls through for you once again, destroying the window right down the middle, pieces shattering everywhere in a stinging shower of shards.</p><p class="p1">There’s still jagged edges remaining, but you can’t wait any longer. You crawl through the open space you’d just created, hissing when the remaining shards tear across your bare skin, rivulets of blood both staining the fabric wrapped around your hand and streaming down your legs, and you collapse inside the eerily silent train. Head hazy with the sudden loss of so much blood, you stagger to your feet, trying to make sense of your surroundings. It’s not ideal, stumbling forward through the car, loud and imposing, but it’s all you can do.</p><p class="p1">“Where is he, where is he?” you mutter to yourself, pushing at every door you see, each of them revealing an empty carriage inside. From the outside, it’d only been one car and the engine, there are very few places he could be, there are very few places <em>they</em> could be, you’re running out of space and time to get to Jeno without either of you being harmed any further.</p><p class="p1">You make it to the fourth door on your right, and blindly shove it open, not seeing anything due to your haziness, almost preparing to leave for the next one when you hear a paltry, “Oh my god, y/n?”</p><p class="p1">Jeno is lying across a row of seats, convulsing with pain and chills, and from your spot at the door you can see the gigantic shadow of crimson painted across his temple where he’d been struck, the stain of his white baseball pants with the precious blood from his leg. You can also see the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the harrowing sign that he’s still alive, despite it all.</p><p class="p1">You run over to him, torn knees screaming as you kneel beside him and cup his face, dotting a kiss right against his feverish brow, “Hi, hi, are you okay? Are you okay, sweetheart?”</p><p class="p1">“I can’t feel my leg,” he whimpers, trembling hands clutching at the bloody mess of his upper leg. You hiss in sympathetic discomfort as you carefully move aside the torn fabric of his pants, the white of his femur bone visible through the angry, bleeding flesh of his cut up thigh.</p><p class="p1">You smooth out his hair, pressing your lips to his forehead one more time, before murmuring, “Okay, okay, I’m going to get you out of here. Can you put your arm around me?”</p><p class="p1">The most horrible sound in recorded history comes from his lips then, the absolutely agonizing moan of pain that escapes him as he tries to sit up, his arm loosely flinging itself around your shoulders. You take care to slide his good leg off the seat first, and daintily shift his injured one to the best of your ability, drawing out more howls from the boy. You clutch at his hand, his hand that is way too tiny feeling right now, and you get both of you standing upright.</p><p class="p1">“Stand on your good foot and then we’ll go,” you instruct him softly, and he leans all the way on you, you taking as much of his weight as you can.</p><p class="p1">You take one step-hop to the door, and another, and then both of you shriek in horror as the door slams wide open. It’s the same towering, masked thug that had hit Jeno, and he has the knife held aloft in his hand, wasting no time to begin slashing wildly at you, both of you ducking back in terror to avoid being ribboned completely apart.</p><p class="p1">The man leaps at you, realizing you’re the imminent threat, and flips the knife in his hand so he can wield it once again like a club. He swings away with abandon, you taking the brute force of his pummeling against your held out hands, his body beginning to corner you into the back of the car.</p><p class="p1">What he’s done though, is leave a clear path for Jeno out the door. He’s writhing in pain on the floor of the carriage, the sudden movement aggravating his injury, but he has to go, now. You dodge a particularly ferocious fling of the knife and use your foot to press Jeno’s torso upright, yelling, “Run! Get the fuck out of here!”</p><p class="p1">You never get to see if he actually makes it out of there, because the club makes contact with your head, exploding your consciousness into unimaginable suffering.You collapse into a warm pit of darkness, and feel the brush of a comforting flower field against your back.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i am so sorry, but i'm not. please stay tuned because you truly have no idea what's going to come next. ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. syringa vulgaris</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Do what they say, play the young lady they think you are, and don’t get hurt anymore. There’s only so much you can do for Jeno when your hands look like that."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>trigger warning: violence, blood mentions, sparing mentions of sexual harassment. none of it is very explicitly graphic but just be careful if these topics will bother you!</p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“That’s not him!”</p><p class="p1">The ferociously unfamiliar yell is more than enough to claw you out of the depths of your black unconsciousness and ragdoll you right into the rude constraints of reality.It’s out of the haze of your flower-filled sleep and right under a permanently running tattoo gun of agony, flecks of pain stabbing at you every which way in your attempt to assess the extent of your existence right now. There’s got to be some way you can confirm that you’re actually here in the ambiguous present and not floating through the aimless grey in-between, no matter how preferable that might sound.</p><p class="p1">Moving at a labored pace, your right hand makes its way over to your left, and your first two fingers pinch at the swell of skin by your thumb, an eighth note of palpable pain you’re not only imagining. That gives way to a host of other sensations, the crack of the scabbed cuts on your right hand, the chafe of a tightly knotted, fraying rope around your wrists, the cold concrete your head is currently resting on.Oh yes, to be in purgatory would be a thousand times better than experiencing all of this so keenly.</p><p class="p1">Your head feels bolted onto the apex of your neck, locking your stare in place to the dark square of ceiling tile, the light in the room barely enough for you to distinguish that you’re looking at a roof of a building. You’re alive, but perhaps this is akin to hell on Earth, because you haven’t forgotten any of the events leading up to you arriving in this position. That is permanently etched into you no matter how many head injuries you suffer.</p><p class="p1">“Whatever. Make sure the boy’s ready, it’s about time to start.”</p><p class="p1">When you hear that unfamiliar voice again, you know you’re going to have to make your neck move, no matter the consequence to your personal health. There’s only one person <em>the boy</em> could be referencing, and you have to confirm with your own eyes that he is actually still here in this hellish hell-reality with you. You dig deep into a reserve of strength you’ve never tapped before to shift your head a quarter of a degree to your left, enough to tear your vision away from the ceiling tile to a scene that is much more terrifyingly captivating.</p><p class="p1">You take in the sight of the two thugs from the train station, the medium one who’d carried out the snatching, and the huge one who’d come at you with the knife in the carriage. They’re joined by a third assailant, the smallest of the three, who can’t stop leering in your direction. He’s nearly dwarfed by the elaborate video camera tripod setup they have prepared in the center of a wide-open, freezing cold warehouse-esque concrete space. Faces concealed with the same black balaclavas they’d been wearing before, they are an incredibly terrifying group of humans.</p><p class="p1">There’s one lone chair positioned in direct view of the camera lens. In it is the small form of a boy you know so well, dressed up in a navy blazer to conceal the spats of blood across his shirt, legs covered with a blanket to not expose the slip of bone they’d violently made visible in his thigh. His shoulders are slumped, possessing nowhere near the amount of energy to keep himself properly upright, yet his ribcage expands in the steady, necessary motion of continuous breathing.</p><p class="p1">“Nono…” you whisper, unable to bring your voice out of that sound range.</p><p class="p1">From your collapsed vantage point, it is not hard to spot the diamond tracks down Jeno’s face, evidence of the sorrowful crying you’d missed, and the absolute ton of fear weighing down his eyes. You attempt another half degree of a head turn to take a better look at him, eyes screwing shut when your neck hollers in protest.</p><p class="p1">The tallest thug doesn’t sound altogether evil when he semi-politely asks Jeno, “Would you please introduce yourself?”</p><p class="p1">But something about the saccharine tone he takes, coupled with his absolutely menacing presence scares both you and Jeno, with the latter going silent in the chair, hands shaking on top of the blanket as he fights to control his body. His lack of response only serves to piss off the man who’d asked the question in the first place, and he practically explodes with the demand, “I said introduce yourself!”</p><p class="p1">The medium man puts his hand on his comrade’s arm, and shakes his hand in silent warning. It is then that you notice the flashing red light on the front of the recording device, a blaring signal that all of this is being caught on film.</p><p class="p1">“I’m Je—,”</p><p class="p1">Somehow you’ve gone from limp to standing in less time than it takes for Jeno to get out the first syllable of his name. Legs feeling like a baby lamb’s, useless but somehow getting the job done, you stagger over to the chair and cover Jeno’s body completely up with yours. You must look like a demonic mess, hair flying out of your ponytail, eyes gigantic in desperation, voice frantic as you beg, “This is y/f/n y/l/n, seamstress to Vice Premier Michael Lee, please help us, they’ve got us here somewhere, it’s me and Jeno—,”</p><p class="p1">A grip spun out of pure iron circles itself around your upper arm, sure to add another set of markings to the skin there, and you’re yanked out of view of the camera before you can complete your cry for help. It’s the tall man that’s grabbed you, the other two staying behind to control Jeno, and he uses more force than necessary to throw you back into the soggy corner you’d woken up in.</p><p class="p1">When you release an involuntary cry of pain at the feeling of your torn up right hand catching your fall, he spits at you, “Shut the fuck up, bitch,” then stalks back to join his accomplices in accosting the teen.</p><p class="p1">You scoot backwards as fast as you can, trying to fold yourself up in the least amount of space possible so you’re no longer visible, as if they’ll forget about you if they can’t see you. You inch back a foot, then another, and collide straight into another mass of flesh.</p><p class="p1">“What the fuck?!” You yelp, pure fearfulness making its way through you, that you’ve come upon another body that hadn’t survived a similar attack. But this isn’t a body, this is a young man, very much alive, with disheveled black hair and the roundest eyes.</p><p class="p1">“Shh, shh.” He raises his hands to calm you, and you spot the same knot of rope looped between his wrists, the two of you marked with the same symbol of imprisonment. He’s not dead, but more importantly, not one of them.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, fuck,” you curse lowly, backing away so he can have his space. “Sorry.”</p><p class="p1">You turn back to the scene before he can say anything, to where the men are still trying to coax Jeno into speaking for the camera. He needs to keep quiet, there’s nothing he’ll gain from giving into their demands, it’ll make them even more brazen and crazed. It is instinctual for you to try and stand up and get in their way again, but you’re stopped by a strong hand around your arm, tugging you back down.</p><p class="p1">The young man shakes his head and whispers, “Don’t do it, they’re going to treat him well.”</p><p class="p1">“Are you kidding me?” you hiss in complete consternation of this stranger’s audacity to tell you what to do. These men <em>kidnapped</em> you, there’s no treating anyone 'well' here.</p><p class="p1">“Trust me, just watch.” Despite his deep and soothing voice, there’s no trust held between the two of you, there’s no way you’re going to look over and not see Jeno with another gash in his leg… But, that’s almost what you’re seeing?</p><p class="p1">Jeno has gotten his shoulders square and straight, appearing sturdy enough to fill out the sleeves of his suit a bit better. There’s a hint of his usual dignity shining through despite the complete tremble in his voice, as he does what they demanded and introduces himself, “My name is Jeno Lee, I’m fif-fifteen. I’m the second son of Vice Premier Michael Lee and Jeongah Lee, brother to Mark.”</p><p class="p1">You brace yourself for the punishing blow, but nothing comes, only the light, “You are such a polite young man. Jeno, do you know why you’re here today?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” Jeno replies meekly, then quickly amends that to, “No, sir,” in preemptive policing of his manners.</p><p class="p1">“I think you do, you said it yourself in your introduction.”</p><p class="p1">“Is it.. is it because of my dad?”</p><p class="p1">You don’t like the triplet grins that cross their faces at Jeno’s hypothesis. Of course this all comes back to Michael, who else would it be?</p><p class="p1">“Polite and smart, very good. Would you mind reading this for us, then?” The middle thug walks over to Jeno, careful not to show even his covered face to the camera, and passes off a small square of paper. The slip goes to and fro in Jeno’s hands. No matter how regally he presents himself he can’t stuff away all the fear. He reads the paper, eyes scanning the lines more than a handful of times, then his head shakes so rapidly.</p><p class="p1">“No,” he whispers, not even looking up, “I, I can’t say this.”</p><p class="p1">The greater thought of what could possibly be on that paper is lost the moment the tall thug yanks the knife out of the hand of the middle one and displays it in a menacing show of force to the teen. Spittle goes everywhere when he growls, “Read it!”</p><p class="p1">You’re simultaneously attempting to escape out of the heated grasp of the man beside you and trying to force your mouth to scream <em>Jeno! Just do it! </em> when you catch another look at the boy. There’s not a single drop of fear written on Jeno’s face, only steely reserve as he shakes his head again, “No.”</p><p class="p1">The head thug puts his hand over the raised knife blade and lowers it carefully, instead pandering, “It’s alright, how about only the last couple sentences?”</p><p class="p1">Jeno glances back down at the slip of paper, and after some careful deliberation, dips his head in a nod. He holds the paper aloft, and solemnly reads the denoted words, “Dad, I know you’re watching right now. And you know what they want, so give it to them, on the celebration of our nation's bicentennial. Then we can come home.”</p><p class="p1">“Very good, Mr. Lee. You may go.”</p><p class="p1">This threat is too veiled to comprehend. <em>They</em> obviously references your assailants, but the wording has given no clues as to their identity, nor does the vague wording of <em>you know what they want. </em>If this is really being broadcast right to Michael’s office, you’re going to have to put your faith in him that he knows what they’re talking about. He’s never let you down before, he’ll come through for this.</p><p class="p1">You can’t be thinking of the conspiracy when there’s the pressing issue of Jeno. He’s back on his feet, wincing with agony as they force him to stand so they can tie his wrists together. Then they send him back your way with no assistance, him half hopping, half dragging his leg along in a pathetic, heart-stabbing best effort at a walk with his injured leg. He makes it nearly halfway before his good leg gives out, dropping him to the floor and smashing a mewling cry out of his mouth. He lamely crawls the rest of the way, leaving a trail of crimson behind on the floor from where his wound has been ravaged open again.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, y/n,” Jeno sniffles, curling into your side immediately, hands desperately grasping at you to glue himself all the way into the comfort of your form.</p><p class="p1">The rope burns against your wrists as you reach out to cup his face, bending over to press a kiss against his feverish brow, “Hi, it’s okay.”</p><p class="p1">He’s lost all sense of coherent communication, energy spent between his on-camera exhibition and his devastating fall, only managing a, “Leg hurts.”</p><p class="p1">He’s bleeding freely again, the outer rim of the stain on his pants is again a bright red, indicating the fresh blood is mixing in with the substance that has already dried. You nearly gag with revulsion when you see that the expanse of white bone again, and imagine the pure agony he must’ve gone through as that leg wound ripped apart even further. The slope of his jaw is dotted all the way through with beads of sweat, and the trembling has taken over his body, every bit of him seizing as it expends effort to keep him awake, and you’d rather he not do that.</p><p class="p1">“Go to sleep, I’m right here,” you soothe, tucking his face into a nest of torn sweater you’ve arranged on the floor for him, keeping your hand on his cheek. “It’ll be much better if you sleep, sweetheart.”</p><p class="p1">“Can’t,” he whines, burying his face into your leg. “Scared.”</p><p class="p1">You’re scared too, you’re <em>terrified</em>, you have no idea how to calm him down to the point where he can float away into beautiful dreamland and let his body heal. Counting sheep? Is counting sheep still a thing?</p><p class="p1">A comfortable, familiar, totally enchanting melody comes waltzing into your ear, “<em>Mature cinnamon, dorky mint, what more do you want?</em>” You glance over to the stranger, who’s got his head leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed as he gently sings. He's singing the song Winwin blasted for you and Jeno on the way home from baseball practice, the song you’d bop around to while cooking with Jaehyun. “<em>Got me feeling like pop rocks, strawberry, bubble gum, all I want is you my love. Candy, you will feel better, tell me what you’re waiting for</em>.”</p><p class="p1">You’re hypnotized by his voice and by the flutter of Jeno’s eyelids as he begins to drift off to sleep; even more by the contented smile that peeks at his lips, like he’s recalling all those times you’d sung together, his sturdy, young tone overpowering your off-key warbles. This stranger is a lullaby siren, escorting desperate subjects to dreamland by virtue of his captivating voice.</p><p class="p1">As his singing fades off into muted, yet not uncomfortable silence, you offer up a quiet, “Thanks.”</p><p class="p1">The corner of his heart-shaped mouth turns up in an appreciative grin, then he asks, “Who’s he?”</p><p class="p1">“He’s mine, he’s my kid brother,” your voice is fiercer than you realize, as your hand comes to possessively grasp at Jeno's shoulder. You don’t want anyone to know who he is, because the truth puts him in the spotlight, takes away his innocence.</p><p class="p1">A thick eyebrow on the man’s face dips in confusion. “I wasn’t aware the Vice Premier had a daughter. And your last name isn’t Lee.”</p><p class="p1">“Calling him my brother doesn’t mean we have to share names,” you snark with disdain, before you catch yourself. This isn’t one of your assailants, this is another young man in the same situation as you, who’d just helped Jeno fall asleep. You wince in awkwardness, then apologize, “Right, sorry again. I um, I have been in the Vice Premier’s household since I was seventeen. I make the family’s clothes, but I’ve basically grown up with both his sons.”</p><p class="p1">“My name’s Kyungsoo.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n.”</p><p class="p1">You take another look at him, at this Kyungsoo, and realize that his comely voice had matched his face quite closely. You’ve been surrounded with ethereal beauty for the length of your adult life, from the flowers of your city to the extravagance of your friends, but he captures the quintessential, reliably handsome niche, with his short black hair and manly seriousness.</p><p class="p1">He teeters the edge between serious and teasing in an attempt to lighten the mood, “So what, you just decided you wanted to get kidnapped out of the blue with your kid brother?”</p><p class="p1">“Pretty much,” you quip, dark and sarcastic.</p><p class="p1">He matches you, “Wow, no way, me too!”</p><p class="p1">This is your chance to dig for the details. Beyond what happened on the train you have no clue what had gone down after passing out. Maybe Kyungsoo can fill in the devoid blanks. “Wait, um can you tell me what happened with you? I remember up until a point and then I can’t…. and I don’t want to ask him.” You know for sure Jeno had still been awake the moment you blacked out, and will not ask him to recall anything that he’d been forced to do on his own.</p><p class="p1">“Your guess is as good as mine, but sure,” Kyungsoo shrugs, voice neutrally bland in an obvious effort to keep hold over his emotions, “I was up super early, thought I’d get a run in before work which is something I usually never do, and now won’t ever do again. Got ambushed out of nowhere, whacked straight in the head, and woke up right here.”</p><p class="p1">Though he doesn’t look as beat up - the only evidence of any harm coming to him is the small dash of blood across his temple - his story is a mirror of yours, the brutality plus the startling lack of details. You need to tell him your version of events, to ensure this isn’t something your concussed mind has conjured up. Your fingers pinch at your palm again, another sharp twinge reminding you you’re in reality, then you take a deep breath, “When I said I wanted to get kidnapped I meant it, I wasn’t agreeing with you for the sake of a joke.”</p><p class="p1">“You can’t be serious.”</p><p class="p1">You stare at Jeno there on the ground, body twitching with feverish tremors in his unrestful sleep. You’d been dressed to the nines, dancing together, only days ago. How have you gotten to this wretched place?</p><p class="p1">“He plays baseball, I’ve been taking him to his practices since he was twelve. He and his best friend were supposed to be in White Limit right now, at that fancy new stadium they built. I was taking him to his carpool, but he’d forgotten these socks he wears. I made them for his birthday, they’re covered in Conan, this cartoon,” your voice breaks freely over the memory, how complete your heart had felt at his insistence on wearing his special gift from you. “He was alone for less than five minutes and they… they just got him, lugged him to the train station like he was a sack of nothing. I broke the train window and got in, but his leg had been completely torn up, and he couldn’t run. I guess they got us, too. I was never supposed to be here, it was supposed to be only him. He’s a kid. He’s just a kid.”</p><p class="p1">You’re at the point where you’ve convinced yourself your assailants had lied in wait until you’d given them the perfect window of opportunity to attack Jeno when you’d stepped away. You’d run after Jeno out of sheer survival instinct, not on your behalf but his, fully prepared to exchange your life for his freedom. But you’d ended up tangled in the horror as well. You’re not entirely sure what is tying Kyungsoo into this, but you’re grateful that you’re not in an alternative scenario, one where Jeno is here without either of you.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t think they meant for it to be me, either.”</p><p class="p1">“What?” you gasp at Kyungsoo’s surprise statement, then a jolting yell reverberates in your mind. “Wait, now that you say it, I do remember hearing something. ‘<em>That’s not him</em>?’”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo cocks his head in the vicinity of the man who seems to be directing it all, who’d quelled the violence and conceded to Jeno, and says, “Yeah, it was Pushy over there. He’s the ringleader, I think.”</p><p class="p1">“Pushy?”</p><p class="p1">“They’re not going to tell us their names, so, Hefty, Pushy, Mousy.” He points to the tall, medium, and small men in turn with his impolite nicknames, before he continues on, “The three of them had a huge screaming match. I think I’m partially concussed so I couldn’t pick up all of it, but there was a lot of yelling about bloodlines and blonde hair.”</p><p class="p1">Your heartbeat solidifies into a glacier of fear at one word from Kyungsoo’s mouth. You don’t know anything about his bloodline, if it intertwines with Jeno’s in any way, but that’s not the word that terrorizes you. Blonde. Blonde, blonde, blonde. You only know one person that has the cheeriest head of sunny blonde hair, kept that way in case the owner decided to return said locks to pink.</p><p class="p1">“Mark….” you breathe out, your best friend's name weeping off your tongue. Kyungsoo shoots you a look of confusion, and you slowly clarify, “The Vice Premier’s oldest son has blonde hair.”</p><p class="p1">You scramble up to your feet without any warning, suddenly rip-roaring for a fight you know you’re doomed to lose. Kyungsoo is too slow to hold you back as he’d already done twice so far, and you go speeding away to the arrangement of chairs Hefty, Pushy, and Mousy have set up for themselves across the cavern of space. They already have Jeno, they cannot have Mark too. You’d die if they got their hands on Mark.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, you assholes!” you scream with complete derangement, not slowing at all as you continue to close the gap, fuming in irate anger, “Don’t you dare put a hand on either of the Lee b—,”</p><p class="p1">A heavy boot collides with your chest, and you go flying to the ground with a scream, “Fuck!” Your heart is burning up from the force of the blow, struggling its hardest to keep you going, lungs working in overtime to pump air to the stars flaring in your vision. Hefty looms over you, and you only barely manage to roll yourself out of his way as he ferociously stamps over the area where your left hand had just been. The other two men do nothing in your defense, only sit there and stare.</p><p class="p1">Hefty snatches you up by your tied wrists with one hand and your ponytail with the other, an egregious and inhumane display of authority. He yanks you back over to where Jeno and Kyungsoo are like you’re a disobedient dog and tosses you onto the floor, you narrowly avoiding a nasty collision with the concrete pillar.</p><p class="p1">From where your head ended up, you watch Kyungsoo wait until your attacker has moved out of your proximity, then carefully makes his way over to you. His bound hands flit over the fresh bruise already bloomed across your chest, and he lowers his voice to speak without being heard, “Listen, they clearly want something from the Vice Premier. Money, probably, it’s always money with kidnappings like this. You and I? We’re accidental, expendable extra bodies.”</p><p class="p1">“I can’t just sit here and let them keep us here like we’re no more than zoo animals!” you protest, knowing that they could do much, much worse to the teen than they’ve done to you. His leg is already proof. “I have to get J out of here.”</p><p class="p1">“Get him out of here by staying smart,” Kyungsoo insists, bending even closer so that no whisper of his words escapes. “Do what they say, play the young lady they think you are, and don’t get hurt anymore. There’s only so much you can do for Jeno when your hands look like that.”</p><p class="p1">Your curl your fingers into fists at his words, and groan on cue when you feel the skin break again. While your left hand is relatively unscathed, your right is a shredded disaster from the window. You’re pretty sure it’s not broken, but you can’t move a single knuckle without an entire lick of flame shooting up your arm. You need to be careful about this, in an effort to keep all your limbs intact. He’s right, if there is a chance to escape, you’re going to need every advantage you can get.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, okay,” you concede. You take a long look around the room, seeing nothing but obsidian obscurity and the faint glow of the lone light. “Where do you think we are?”</p><p class="p1">“No clue, not a single one. I can’t see anything past the column there, but it must be night time.”</p><p class="p1">“How do you know?”</p><p class="p1">His hand gently shifts your head to a different position, one that allows you to see a strip of wall all the way at the other end. It's a strip of black, yes, but it doesn’t quite blend in with the rest of the darkness. “That must be a covered window, I could see a tiny stream of sun through it earlier. Now, it’s gone.”</p><p class="p1">A window…. A window could be a way out. If you can just stick your head out, scream for help, surely someone will find you and rescue you from this horror. You need to do this now, you need to get Jeno help before he loses his own leg. But Kyungsoo seems already attuned to your newly developed erratic urgency, and before you can even make it up off the ground, his warm hand curls around your arm again. Careful to not touch any of your wounds, he pins you back down to the concrete and holds you there, thumb brushing against the skin of your inner elbow. </p><p class="p1">“You should try to sleep,” he murmurs. When your eyes go frantically darting over to Jeno, Kyungsoo’s words become hefty with kindness, “I know, you want to watch over him. But there’s also only so much you can do for him by trying to pull all nighters in his name. I slept for a little bit earlier, I’ll watch over him.”</p><p class="p1">It’d been wrong of you before, to conclude that there was no trust held between the two of you. You’ve known him for half a day but he’s already climbing into the sacred echelon of individuals you trust. Something about how he’d sang to Jeno without prompting had convinced you of that.</p><p class="p1">You arrange yourself into some semblance of a sleeping arrangement that doesn’t fill you with crippling pain, and shut your eyes, hoping that sleep will be merciful and come quickly. But it doesn’t, it feels as if time is dragging by its feet and you’re still wide awake. While you didn’t expect to go like a baby in the night, you’re fully concussed and beaten, exhaustion should’ve taken over by now.</p><p class="p1">It’s never been an issue that you’ve contemplated particularly deeply, but now that you’re here, in the scariest place you’ve ever been, you’re realizing you sleep under a very specific set of conditions. The first is that your room is never noiseless, there’s always the whir of your AC, or the beep of your carbon monoxide detector, or Mark’s delicate snoring from downstairs where you’d make him sleep if he stayed over. The second, and centrally vital piece missing, is that the beckoning glow of Jaehyun’s home always streams through your bedroom window, the ever-present reminder of your shared existence together on the hill.</p><p class="p1">“Agh, I can’t,” you moan as you roll over and bury your face in the hard floor. “This is so stupid.”</p><p class="p1">There’s some rustling, and you look up to see Kyungsoo on the floor beside you, face entering the orbit of yours as he presses, “You can tell me.” </p><p class="p1">“It’s too quiet,” you admit in a timid voice. “And I can usually see my neighbor’s porch light through my window.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t know him well enough to know what his reaction will be, probably laughter or blowing you off. Certainly not the way the side of his hand ghosts past yours, the same beautiful voice from earlier pouring out of him, “<em>Got me feeling like pop rocks, strawberry, bubble gum</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Your hand covers his as you stop him, to ask a question that’s burst into your mind, “Wait, how’d you know?” How did he know that Baekhyun’s famous song would calm both Jeno and you down, that the singer holds such a special place in your heart?</p><p class="p1">“Baekhyun Byun is the singer of our generation, everyone in the nation knows him,” Kyungsoo proclaims with a ration of brash confidence, as if he’s on a personal level with the celebrity to use him in this way.</p><p class="p1">His words evoke the memory of a similarly spoken sentiment, a proclamation you’re suddenly hearing in a completely transformed light. <em>Baekhyun Byun is the best singer ever, and he’s from Elyxion. That shouldn’t matter. </em>Kyungsoo is singing again, muted and haunting, the first song you’d discovered after you’d been inspired to look up the singer, “<em>Just as I am, watch over me. I’m not your person, I can’t hold you, but I’m a man who has a large heart to protect you. I’ll take you home, lean on me</em>.”</p><p class="p1">With those lyrics comes the peaceful hold of slumber.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You let out a very unsightly groan the moment your eyes flutter open again, sending the drool cascading all over your chin, “Ugh.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is no longer lying on the floor beside you, he’s back propped up against the wall where’d he’d started yesterday off. How can one man be this serious? His strong jaw is set in his face as he stares off to the side for a second, before realizing you’re awake and letting the self-satisfied grin cross his face, “Looks like my singing did more than the trick. You’ve slept for half the day.”</p><p class="p1">Your head shoots back over to the area he’d pointed out last night, and as he’d mentioned, there is a thin stream of goldenrod light tiptoeing in. The thugs are still in that same huddle, chatting and eating with each other like they’re friends on a fishing trip, but they do not otherwise attempt to approach. You feel remorse for making Kyungsoo stand watch over Jeno when you had relatively peaceful sleep, so you mutter a short, “Sorry.”</p><p class="p1">Speaking of the kid, he bursts into your field of vision, bending over where you’re laying from above, voice decidedly more normal as he chirps, “Did you know Soo is from Neozone too? Hey, that rhymes!”</p><p class="p1">“Good morning...” you mumble, not expecting his brightness, and sit upright to see him propped up against the nearest concrete pillar. His pant leg is modestly folded closed over his thigh, concealing the gaping wound. You just know Kyungsoo did that since you couldn't. You glance between the two men and ask, “When did you two get on a first name basis? And you’re from Neozone?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo winks at the boy, then explains, “Yup, I live in Pandora now but I’m originally from Neozone. Neozone Neozone, not one of the outer cities like so many people pretend to be.”</p><p class="p1">Jeno nudges you with his foot. “That’s you, Zero Mile!”</p><p class="p1">You haven’t even thought about this particular lie of yours in such a long time. It’s never come up that beyond the few introductory times you’d had to drop it to get people off your path. Even when you looked at the bluebells blooming by your sink, it was always thoughts of your real home in Tactix first. You kick the boy back with a grumble, “Shut up, I don’t even consider myself from there anymore.”</p><p class="p1">“Her parents sent her to us to give her a better future,” Jeno divulges to Kyungsoo, in the same diplomatic excuse you always use. You feel one tendon in your neck flex with discomfort, met immediately with a quirk of Kyungsoo’s eyebrow. It is that gesture alone that reveals he’s probably deciphered the missing part of Jeno’s statement, <em>she hasn’t seen them since. </em>There’s no need to tell this stranger, despite your burgeoning friendship, about the intimate details of your life.</p><p class="p1">Better to move on from that subject before you get emotional and risk being beat up again. “Anyways, I’ve never seen you around.”</p><p class="p1">“I haven’t been back in like…” Kyungsoo counts the years on his fingers silently before confirming your observation, “over a decade. Since I graduated high school.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re old as hell dude,” you blurt as soon as you’ve done the mental math.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s jaw drops at your blunt statement, and he begins to immediately protest, which makes Jeno giggle, “I’m not old! Almost thirty is not old, and I doubt things have changed that much!”</p><p class="p1">“Prove it.”</p><p class="p1">“Bomb’s Away makes the best bacon and onion omelet. The best spot to sit for lunch in the elitist private high school you both surely went to, like I did, is the atrium, because the sun would always make it feel so cozy. And the prettiest place in the whole city is the white field out by the northern city limit, because that means it’d sprouted with blueberries, my favorite.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve only been gone from home for a few days by your calculation, but his list has already begun to spin the wisps of wistful nostalgia for the place you’ve grown to love. You’ve spent too many dollars on greasy diner food, and you and Yuta used to be cats in the sun of the lunchroom atrium. And while no flower field in the area could quite compare to the dignified and stunning stellaria in your backyard, the blueberry fields are a close second.Kyungsoo is an Neozone boy through and through, because he’s plucked out all of the parts of your home you find most charming.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n lives over that way!” Jeno says excitedly.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo can’t keep his stern face from transfiguring into a pretty smile, “You do?”</p><p class="p1">The blueberry field holds hands with the grass in Jaehyun’s backyard. Sometimes the two of you would stick your hands through the gaps in his fence and pick out the berries. “You know that sloping hill that overlooks the bend in the river? I live right on top of it." As you tell him that, you know he knows exactly what you’re talking about. The two housed hill is as much a landmark of the city as the Lee mansion or the flower fields. It’s as if the slope wouldn’t be complete without the structures there, without both of them. One or the other, it wouldn’t be the same.</p><p class="p1">“Shh,” Jeno’s sudden hiss pierces through your reminiscing. “They’re getting up.”</p><p class="p1">You assemble the most impenetrable mental dam to block the flow of anger that gushes through you at the boy’s warning. That flow devolves into a typhoon of rage when he presses himself into Kyungsoo in a tiny, curled ball. You have to stay smart, you cannot reach out and tear those thugs limb by limb as you’re want to do.</p><p class="p1">You simply cannot comprehend the casual nonchalance the three men saunter over with, how they’re laughing and chatting like they’re on their way out for a burger together. Nevertheless, you arrange yourself in a nonchalant display of dismissal, keeping your gaze latched onto your bound hands, not moving or otherwise lashing out. One of them nudges at you with his knee, to ensure that you’re still alive or at least breathing, but at least they’re a smidgen gentler when they check in on Jeno. If only you had the circumstance and fortitude to take them on right now, they’d be pounded to smithereens under your hand in no time at all.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, coast is clear.” Kyungsoo mutters as his gaze follows the thugs’ retreat back to their menacing corner of the floor. He doesn’t remove his arm from around Jeno’s shoulders, only tugging lightly at the collar of his tee, “This shirt is really cool, little man. Where’d you get it so I can buy one?”</p><p class="p1">You’re somehow glad Jeno had managed to put on your creation before the awful horribleness had occurred. The smiling strawberry you'd sewn is somehow still unmarred with his blood. If it can stay that way, pretty and cheeky, it’ll be a sign that you’ll be able to get out of here safe.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n made it,” Jeno’s voice is muffled from where he’s still tucked into the other man's side. “She gave it to me this weekend. You gotta tell him though, y/n.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is not immune to the allure of your skills, his face lights up with the same curious intrigue and desire. Jeno’s caught onto that himself, and you do as he's instructed and parrot out the same, “I do not take personal requests, sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“She only sews for me, my brother, and his friends,” Jeno brags, the cockiness he’s inherited from your friends revealing itself. “Notable exceptions made only for Dad and Premier Kim.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo pulls the boy into a headlock, teasing but gentle so as not to exacerbate his pain, then he quips, “Damn, so I’m going to have to become some kind of government hotshot for her to sew me something?”</p><p class="p1">Jeno nods, nose wrinkling in a <em>good luck with that</em> kind of way, and you raise your eyebrows in knowing agreement. Kyungsoo opens his mouth to push back and you’re met with a gigantic yawn, taking up all of his face. You’re not entirely sure he was telling you the truth yesterday when he said he’d slept, the bags under his eyes give away his lie.</p><p class="p1">“You should sleep,” you offer, because you owe him, for honestly a lot more than just staying up to watch over Jeno.</p><p class="p1">A prick of relief sews its way through his eyes, immediately sending his lids into a cascade of fluttering. Like he’s handing off a baby, he cups Jeno softly under his elbow, shifting him so he’s positioned closer to you. You reach out across the gap and tug Jeno over, keeping your winces at bay at the sensation of your scabbed hands breaking apart again. You arrange him carefully across your legs, and grab the same bundle of torn fabric to use as a makeshift pillow under his black hair.</p><p class="p1">It doesn’t take long for Kyungsoo to pass out completely, neatly lying down with his hands clasped over his stomach. When you see the even rise and fall of his chest, you heap all your attention onto the boy in your lap, “Are you okay?”</p><p class="p1">“I feel so much better today, talking with Soo really helped,” Jeno responds in the affirmative, and you almost would’ve believed him, if not for the subtle grit of his fingers against the floor.</p><p class="p1">“Jeno, don’t lie to me, please. Please don’t.”</p><p class="p1">“I… I still can’t feel my leg." His fingers move up to dart against his thigh for only a second, the sensation of light touch too overwhelming for him to do anymore. Just that small bit of pressure has sent the crackle into his voice, tears of agony already welling up in his eyes, “Like, I… I have the sensation of my thigh still, I think… but it’s this fireball of pain, a thousand explosions of it, and then the rest of it is totally dead. I don’t even know if that’s possible.”</p><p class="p1">This is nothing anyone should ever experience, let alone the most pure-hearted fifteen year old. He’s inspired a gallon of sympathetic tears in you, dripping down your nose as you breathe, “Oh, J…”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t even know how I’m awake right now, I feel like I can barely see you right now,” he mumbles, tongue heavy in his mouth as his hand flutters in your direction, “I see the outline of your face and that’s it. I’m tired. I’m so tired, y/n.”</p><p class="p1">“Time for today’s turn in the spotlight,” a sinister call echoes from across the room, and Jeno’s entire body goes rigid.</p><p class="p1">If he’s this exhausted, being forced to sit in front of the camera like he did yesterday might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back of his perilously hanging on existence. You need to get him out of this, you need to do something beyond just sit here, but you don’t exactly have an avenue to bargain. You have no leverage, no assets, nothing.</p><p class="p1">But wait, there’s a technique you’ve used once, on someone unwittingly naive. If the right man is coming over now, and you’ve somehow pinpointed him correctly, maybe there is something you can do. Once the footsteps get ominously louder, you hazard a look up at who’s approaching. Mousy. Bingo. He’d been noticeably silent in comparison to his two other companions, minute both in stature and contribution. He seems brought along for the ride, to film and be an extra set of hands, not the kind of person who is composed of vengeance and nothing else. But more importantly, he'd leered at you quite obviously yesterday.</p><p class="p1">You shift Jeno in your lap so you can twist your torso with ease, bending over him in a way that exposes the breadth of your collarbone to the approaching man. By the time he’s within earshot, the skin under his mask is visibly painted with flush, and he’s blinking more than is necessary.</p><p class="p1">“Please don’t make him do this,” you murmur once you know he can hear, in a concoction of pleading that’s teetering more towards seduction. “I’m not going to fight, I swear. I’ll do it. If he can’t read the whole statement, I’ll do it.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n…” Jeno whines in protest once he hears, immediately exerting effort to sit upright, which makes him groan in pain.</p><p class="p1">You hold his arm firmly, keeping him down on top of you while you allow your lip to dance up in a sorrowful little smile, loading the platitudes into your manipulation, “Please, sir. I know you want the Vice Premier’s cooperation, I’m the closest thing he has to a daughter. Put me on camera tonight.”</p><p class="p1">Mousy glances back and forth to his comrades, clearly both intimidated and attracted to you. You already know he’ll protest on your behalf if Hefty or Pushy deny your request. From across the way you catch Pushy’s subtle nod of approval, then the lick of delight that Mousy gets when he realizes he’ll get to manhandle you right now. And manhandle you he does, tugging you up off the floor with no preamble, letting Jeno’s body flop onto the floor without a care. The thug is less than appropriate with the way he touches you when he’s quote preparing you for the camera. There’s no reason for his hand to go by the swell of your chest while he’s untying your hands, or to settle firmly on the curve of your backside when he ties the blanket around your waist, to conceal where the self-broken glass had torn the bottom of your dress to shreds. But you grit and bear it all, because if you speak out of turn, there’s no saying what he could possibly do.</p><p class="p1">You’re staring down the firing squad, the three of them lined up plus the sinister camera placed in front of them, blinking red light recalling the way Jeno’s blood had fallen drop by drop onto the sidewalk. Nervous, your fingers pinch at the same bit of palm they’d bit into, and sadly, it’s confirmed you’re still in reality. You’re terrified to the point that it horrifies you when your voice comes out so steely, “My name is y/f/n y/l/n, I’m twenty-three. I am the seamstress to Vice Premier Michael Lee in Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">You’d lost your curiosity to find out what had been printed on that paper, in large part due to the fear that had consumed you in the night. But you start to speed read what’s written out once you see it, uncontrollable flow of words a waterfall from your mouth,</p><p class="p1">“The real truth of what’s happening in Dorado must be told. It has been far too long that the wool has been pulled over the eyes of our citizens, since we’ve been forced to acknowledge the realities of the life we’re all living in.I come to you on this broadcast with an earnest plea, speaking on behalf of my sisters and brothers in both noble regions.Michael, I know you’re watching right now. And you know what they want, so give it to them, on the celebration of our nation's bicentennial. Then we can come home.”</p><p class="p1">The words themselves don’t present a direct threat of harm or violence, but that somehow makes them worse. Your throat clogs with nausea, a clot of the unknown making it hard for you to breathe, hard for you to move even when the red light dissipates into nothingness.</p><p class="p1">“Very good, Ms. Y/l/n,” Mousy purrs as he stands you up.</p><p class="p1">You hardly register the ropes re-tying up around your wrists, nor his heavy breathing as he brings his face way too close to yours nor how he presses himself into your back as he returns you to the holding area. Even the disgusting kiss he presses against your shoulder once you’re sitting next to a slumbering Jeno doesn’t compute in your mind. You’re only hearing yourself repeating the statement, asking for something you don't understand.</p><p class="p1">A sudden whisper pierces through that cloud, “Do you know what that meant?”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes dart over to the floor, where Jeno is still curled up on his side, but his breathing is not as smoothed out as it should be, “Kid, you’re still awake?”</p><p class="p1">“Can’t sleep without you,” comes the sleepy mumble, and before you know it, you’re crawling over to where he is, lying down in front of him so your noses are nearly brushing.</p><p class="p1">“I have absolutely no clue what any of that meant," you admit. "They phrased it in such a confusing way I don’t know if anyone really knows what they’re trying to say. I can only hope that your dad does.”</p><p class="p1">The sentences had given absolutely nothing away as to whether the assailants were from Neozone or Elyxion. There were no hints if they were doing this on behalf of someone or were acting in their own personal gain. Beyond that, there is no way you can even begin to speculate on what they’re asking Michael for. The statement hadn't seemed to imply they wanted money as Kyungsoo had thought, but you really can’t imagine what else they could even want. Not to mention the talk of history and deceit, topics too convoluted for you to start to pick apart, here with your limited resources and emotional capacity.</p><p class="p1">“Do you think they meant to take Marky too?” Jeno’s tentative question hurts. “The slip said we, and it addressed Dad directly.”</p><p class="p1">You reach out to run a hand through his onyx locks, and a remorseful sigh escapes you, “Yeah, I think so.When you were sleeping, Kyungsoo told me they were talking about a boy with blonde hair. Everyone knows that Premier Kim doesn’t have any family members. Unfortunately, I think that means they tried to go for the next closest thing.”</p><p class="p1">It is an established fact that Michael Lee adores his sons, especially so considering the mysterious absence of his wife. If the most powerful man in the nation had no family to use as a bargaining chip, it only makes sense these evil men had settled for the next best thing.</p><p class="p1">Jeno’s innocence shines through when he asks, “But why would they want me and Mark? Like, I get it, but I don’t.”</p><p class="p1">“I think we’ve seen in the past few months how desperate people can get when it comes to the regional conflict in Dorado," you sigh. You'd seen it first hand - a university bombing, an attack on the Vice Premier in his own car, all of the back and forth, all the tension that had begun to boil into crippling levels of hatred. Though you are still not sure what they are trying to accomplish, it makes sense, in some incredibly grotesque way, that it’s come down to something as terrible as this.</p><p class="p1">“Resorting to violence is never the answer," he states firmly. "I hope whoever is behind this can talk it out so no one on the outside gets hurt.”</p><p class="p1">He is unbelievably wise and selfless, already looking out for the greater good. It’s obvious his father’s strong morality has gone completely into him. That’s the main reason you need to get him out of this, because he’s the kind of person who can quell this awful tension. He’s the bright light of the next generation.</p><p class="p1">You pull him into your chest, so he’s latched into your care as tightly as he possibly can be. His thin arms go around you, and you whisper, “You’re too good, kid. Too good.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“I don’t understand them.”</p><p class="p1">You glance over at Kyungsoo’s solemn and serious face, coolly observing the gathered goons in their same spot by the theorized window covering. You agree, you could never truly comprehend what would drive a human to kidnap and assault another. But like, why is he specifically commenting this now?</p><p class="p1">“Why?”</p><p class="p1">His bound hands gesture over to the men, “It’s like they don’t have a plan, all they do is sit there, make Jeno go on camera every evening, and beat the crap out of either of us if we speak up.”</p><p class="p1">It’s exceedingly weird that there’s no constant torture or permanent terrorization, beyond the beatings you’d ‘deserved’ for your lip. They’ve been especially careful with Jeno, perhaps anticipating that Michael will not bend to their requests without a fight if he sees his son has been harmed.</p><p class="p1">“When I saw they had the train waiting at the station, I thought this was some elaborate, planned out scheme. But it really reads like a group of guys who wanted some money and got in too far deep,” you agree with the points Kyungsoo has made, trying to accept the simplest theory so you don't get bogged down by confusing conspiracies.</p><p class="p1">“The only thing I can’t figure out is how they’re broadcasting this to the Vice Premier, but I guess in the internet age, it’s not hard to hack a computer.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sure the little one did it,” you snarl as Mousy throws his head back and laughs at something. You’d filled Kyungsoo in on what you’d done the night before - the harassment from Mousy you’d endured, plus the specific words written on the slip of paper. But to no avail, he’d been just as stumped as to the meaning. You make a face as you continue to observe them, “He’s the creepiest, though Hefty is the most menacing.”</p><p class="p1">“Pushy is the scariest to me,” Kyungsoo shudders as his eyes wander over to the silent head of the group, “He’s always lurking, always seems to be one step past us. If only we could get him away from that window.” The window. You’d had this thought two night ago, and really should’ve pushed it more at the time. Kyungsoo senses this reoccurrence of that idea, and just as he’d dissuaded you from anticipatory incitement, he does so again, “Y/n, no.”</p><p class="p1">“What are you two whispering about?” Jeno sleepily murmurs from where he’s still lying on the floor.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo pats him on the shoulder but brushes off his question, “Nothing, little man.” Once Jeno’s head flops against the floor again, Kyungsoo turns back to mutter, “You cannot think we’ll be able to escape from here! You have no idea where we are!”</p><p class="p1">You shake your head. “I never said escape. You said it yourself, we just have to get to the window.”</p><p class="p1">“What do you mean?”</p><p class="p1">“We need some kind of clue, a frame of reference as to where we are. If we can figure it out without getting caught, the next time I go on camera I won't say the statement, I'll just keep yelling where we are.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s confused face stays pasted on during your explanation, but it does not give way to derision. It only dissolves into undiluted concern, hefted right in your direction. His voice goes soft, worrying, “They’ll beat you.”</p><p class="p1">“You think I care?” is your instant response, because though you’ve only known each other for three days, this is a fundamental part of you that he should recognize.</p><p class="p1">“She doesn’t care, Soo,” Jeno interrupts.</p><p class="p1">You both turn to see him propped up, tied hands clasped together in relative calm, even when you hiss, “What the hell, kiddo?”</p><p class="p1">“My leg is cut, not my eardrums,” he deadpans, giving his thigh a half-hearted shake before he reorients himself, “As much as I believe Dad is coming for us, we’d be kind of dumb to not at least <em>try</em> something, right?”</p><p class="p1">Unfailingly loyal above all else. What a kid. You lift an eyebrow in full defiance, jerking your head back towards Jeno, knowing this hypothetical vote would be 2-1 in favor of your plan, “See?”</p><p class="p1">“He’s a kid!” Kyungsoo exclaims, with full and unrelenting exasperation.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, grandpa,” Jeno snaps in return.</p><p class="p1">It’s a comically hilarious standoff, you and Jeno versus Kyungsoo and his unblinking stare. He’s is so seriously serious that you’re prepared for him to strong-arm you into giving up on the plan and letting him get his way. But Jeno is Jeno, and no one, man or woman, adult or teen, could ever possibly deny him without feeling fully guilty for doing so.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo grits his teeth, then rubs at his neck and grumbles, “I may have to admit that at least… knowing… where we are could help.”</p><p class="p1">With a sneering smile in his direction at his concession, you scoot backwards on the floor to where Jeno is. You lightly poke him in the side in thanks for backing you up, but once Kyungsoo makes his way over, you’re all business, “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’re ready the moment you hear the telltale squeak of leather boots against the concrete. Discreetly, you arrange the stained collar of your dress into an artfully seductive exposition of your bare décolletage, twisting your legs so a bit more of your smooth upper leg is exposed by your skirt. Through your peripheral vision, Kyungsoo and Jeno are lying prone against the floor in a mimicry of sleep, torsos moving in unison with their controlled breathing.</p><p class="p1">Mousy slithers all the way up to you, cupping your face with his hand as he whispers, “Would you like to speak again today, beautiful?”</p><p class="p1">Men are so fucking foolish when temped with a woman.</p><p class="p1">You dip your voice low into a range you hate to use on him, give him a smile that he’s not privileged enough to see in any way, “Yes I would. Thank you so much.”</p><p class="p1">This time, he’s not at all subtle in the way he treats you as he begins to escort you over to where the camera is set up. He full on grabs your ass as he walks beside you, letting his hand roam freely over that area, perhaps the worst thing you’ve ever experienced. Again, he purposefully brushes past your chest when he unbinds your held out hands, severely violating your personal space. When you’re out of this, you’ll ask for the most diabolical punishment for him.</p><p class="p1">The terror at what he’s going to try next begins to build when he bends over your waist, preparing to tie the blanket back up, but you are saved by the grace of a very loud, planned scream, “Ah! Ah, help! My leg, my leg!”</p><p class="p1">You’d been prepared for it, but the hair on the back of your neck still shoots up at the very realistic howl of pain from Jeno’s mouth, surely due to knowing the actual amount of pain he’d been living through. Kyungsoo’s mournful holler joins in too, “Help, help!”</p><p class="p1">Stampeding footsteps loom in your ears as Hefty and Pushy tear across the room to their most precious hostage, knowing it’d spell unfathomable consequences for them if Jeno were to lose his leg, or worse, die right here. The masks do nothing to conceal their turn with fear as they kneel by his weeping side, his hands gripping at his thigh and coming away stained red, as he moans, “Help me, help me, I can’t feel it, I can’t feel my leg.”</p><p class="p1">You tuck away the bleeding part of your hand that you’d used to drip fresh blood over the cloth covering his wound. You inject pure panic into your voice as you grab at Mousy’s shirt and beg, “Please help him!” If Jeno was actually having a life or death episode, there’s no way you wouldn’t be halfway to deranged right now, but this fool has no idea what you’d be like. You just need to sell this bit. You’re almost there.</p><p class="p1">His eyes dart over to where the three adults are huddled over the screaming teen, then he half-heartedly states, “I’m supposed to watch you.”</p><p class="p1">“Please,” you twist the knife of manipulation into his snivelling, puny form by letting the sheen of tears coat your eyes, letting him feel the tremble of your fingers on his arm. “He means a lot to me.”</p><p class="p1">He bolts over to Jeno without another word from you. Stupid man.</p><p class="p1">There’s no time to waste now that you’re in the clear. You have to balance urgency with treachery - you can't rush over to the window area in a flurry of motion that will alert them, but you can't lollygag to the point where they’ll realize Jeno is the main perpetrator of deception against them. You settle for the most urgent speed walk of your life, straight to the anomaly in the wall Kyungsoo had pointed out to you.</p><p class="p1">As you get closer, you spot the pearly light arranged in one skinny slope against the floor and look up to see the expected break in the concrete. It’s about six feet wide. It's six feet of potential, six feet separating you from the only chance of an escape from this place that you have. You’re only at the start, there are a thousand and one obstacles coming at you before you're in the clear, but it feels like it’s right there. The chance for freedom is right in those six feet.</p><p class="p1">Your fingers curl around the edge of the black covering, a sliver of moonlight beginning to blossom in your vision as you peel it back inch by inch. You almost have it, the portrait of the outside world is about to reveal itself to you. You’d love to stick your head through the window and see the trees of Tactix, or the flower patches of Neozone. All you need is one clue.</p><p class="p1">You feel the spittle dash against your bare shoulder with the advent of a ferocious cry, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, bitch?!” </p><p class="p1">A meaty hand closes across the front of your neck, your own tiny hands flying to it to try and get him off, to keep your airway free. But Kyungsoo had called him Hefty for a reason, he’s lifting you off the ground without a care like you’re a rag doll, the tendons in your neck collapsing under the pressure of his grip, your esophagus beginning to lose its resolve to stay open for you to breathe.</p><p class="p1">You can’t do anything but watch how the whites of his eyes bubble with ferocity, face going red with effort as he continues to exert his strength in strangling you. Your actions in protestation taper off quickly, the amount of adrenaline and energy in your body sapping out completely, limb by limb. He's going to choke you out right here, this is it. There's nothing you can do.</p><p class="p1">This time, when the darkness comes, there’s no field of flowers to comfort you, only that diagonal of moonlight, stained in crimson.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Your eyelids jolt open, and you’re met by two round orbs that are not the moon, but Kyungsoo’s eyes. Your dry mouth cracks over the word, “Hey.”</p><p class="p1">“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”  His strong hand levers your shoulder upward, sending a heady rush of nausea right to your head as he props you up against his knee. </p><p class="p1">The pain from your first head wound at the train station had already faded to a dull throb, this pulsating nonsense is way too fresh to be from that. “I was out, right?” you ask, bracing yourself against his arm to turn and see him better, see his sad nod. “How long was it for?”</p><p class="p1">“Two days, give or take. He threw you against the concrete and you passed out.”</p><p class="p1">“Two days?!” you gasp and startle upright, only to sink back down into Kyungsoo with a moan when every bit of you aches in protest, “Is the kid okay? Where is he?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s filming time real soon, they’re getting him prepped. But he’s okay.” <em>He’s okay</em> means Jeno’s still alive, but Kyungsoo is gnawing on a corner of his heart shaped lip right now, belying his worry.</p><p class="p1">“And the truth?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo winces in preparation for what he’s going to tell you, “His leg is… not looking good. It’s been oozing green pus for the past... I don’t know how many hours.”</p><p class="p1">“Shit—,” you curse, before catching a real glimpse of Kyungsoo’s face, and gasping, “Oh my god, what happened to you?” He has a cut razed through his eyebrow into the apex of his soft cheek, canyon of a bruise carved into the space between his jaw and his mouth, dried brown stains of blood visible on his scalp through his black hair.</p><p class="p1">“He’s okay, but they beat me for what we did,” he whispers.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was so stupid, I, he’s so lucky to be alive. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he’d died while I was under… I can’t… I can’t think about that…” you’re unable to staunch the flow of imagined horror, the panic attack that’s brewing, the incessant pinching at your palm that is starting to bruise the skin there. You’d almost got Jeno killed, and Kyungsoo had taken the unnecessary brunt of it. How selfish could you have been, how arrogant to think that you could’ve gotten the three of you out of there.</p><p class="p1">“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he soothes, gently grasping your hands so you don’t inflict any more pain. “They haven’t hurt him, not at all. They haven’t touched him once.”</p><p class="p1">Tears again billow up with your relief and the crystal droplets only serve to magnify the injuries cratered onto his features. You finally ignore your pain to struggle into a more upright position. “Ah, Kyungsoo, your face is really too much,” you murmur as your tentative fingers come to grasp at his face, so squishy and delightful up this close. You wipe away the blood as tenderly as you can, words coming out in echoed sentiment, “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I thought any of that would be a good idea.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay. You were so close, your heart was in the right place.”</p><p class="p1">As his hand closes around yours on his face, the two of you stare at each other, the space between you a trench filled to the crest with understanding. Your thumb brushes across his cheek, you suddenly bashful with the hope that that gesture will come across as comforting.</p><p class="p1">“My name is Jeno Lee, I am fifteen years old. I am the second son of the great Vice Premier Michael Lee and Jeongah Lee, and brother to Mark Lee.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo drops your hand as both of you whip to look behind you at the bold, confident statement. Jeno’s sat straight up in the chair, head held high, gaze defiant, commanding aura fully in place as he addresses the camera. There’s not a single lick of apprehension, dread, or jitters present in his body. Not even when he boldly recites the statement once again,</p><p class="p1">“The real truth of what’s happening in Dorado must be told. It has been far too long that the wool has been pulled over the eyes of our citizens, since we’ve been forced to acknowledge the realities of the life we’re all living in.I come to you on this broadcast with an earnest plea, speaking on behalf of my sisters and brothers in both noble regions.Dad, I know you’re watching right now. And you know what they want, so give it to them, on the celebration of our nation's bicentennial. Then we can come home.”</p><p class="p1">“He’s something else,” Kyungsoo whispers to you in awe.</p><p class="p1">You nod your head slowly, with just a dash of pride. “I know.”</p><p class="p1">As soon as Jeno’s done speaking, he bows his head in deep reverence, then the camera cuts out on an image of his soul-cutting stare. Even as Mousy stands him up, rougher with him than he ever was with you, Jeno is the picture-perfect image of an untouchable prince. Not even the ragged limp in his leg as he’s marched over could break that image, it doesn’t slip until he’s on the floor beside you, and you catch the minuscule tremble of his bound hands.</p><p class="p1">“Hi, how are you feeling?" you ask, nudging his shoulder with yours.</p><p class="p1">“No, you first.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m no worse for wear than I was before I took the power nap to end all power naps,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.</p><p class="p1">“That’s good to hear. I’m okay, really, you don’t have to ask,” Jeno replies, breezy. You know he’s hurting, Kyungsoo had told you as much, but he deserves your respect, especially after he’d faced his fear of going on camera for you. Anyways, he doesn’t even give you a second to worry over him because he drops a huge bomb, “I think the anniversary is tomorrow.”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, are you sure?” Kyungsoo gasps as your eyes shoot open.</p><p class="p1">Jeno’s face lights up with a hopeful smile, “The camera guy had the preview screen turned for a second. I couldn’t catch the date, but I’m pretty sure it said Friday.”</p><p class="p1">The city elders had been so happy Changmin’s blossom ceremony happened when it did, to leave the next Saturday free for celebrating the nation. If it’s Friday, that means that the nation’s two hundredth birthday is tomorrow. <em>So give it to them, on the celebration of our nation’s bicentennial.</em></p><p class="p1">“No way. No <em>way!</em>" You’ve never seen Kyungsoo this blown apart with true excitement as he chirps, “There’s no way the Vice Premier hasn’t been in contact with them yet, they’re definitely just keeping us here for show. They’re going to let us go tomorrow!”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungsoo…” you whisper, not wanting him to get Jeno riled up for no reason after reaching his own conclusions. There’s no guarantee this is going to happen.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, think about it. They specifically asked me to tell Dad to give them what they wanted by the nation’s anniversary, and then we could go. Has Dad ever fallen through on something like this?”</p><p class="p1">Jeno’s question hadn’t meant to be rhetorical, but it may as well have been. Michael Lee is the kind of man who do absolutely anything for his sons, he was probably champing at the bit to get Jeno freed the first hour he hadn’t showed up to the Na’s. Even if you’re still totally lost as to the meaning of the phrase <em>what they want</em><em>,</em> Michael has undoubtedly called upon every resource in the nation to try and figure that out. Which means…</p><p class="p1">“We’re going to get out tomorrow,” you whisper the incredulous thought.</p><p class="p1">Jeno grabs your hand as he leans back onto the floor, grin spread wide over his face, content like he’s falling into the bed of stellaria in your backyard. You do the same, almost able to picture the fluffy clouds rolling by in the sky above. Kyungsoo’s hand upon yours feels just like it does when you hold Mark’s. You can’t wait to get home, to get Jeno back to his usual self, to have Kyungsoo in your life in some way. Surely this can’t be the end of the three of you together? You need to make beautiful memories, to replace these.</p><p class="p1">“Kid, what do you want to be when you grow up?” Kyungsoo muses out loud after you’ve all laid there in silence for a few minutes. “A ba—,”</p><p class="p1">“A baseball player,” Jeno overlaps his answer with Kyungsoo’s assumption, surely from conversations they’ve had while you were unconscious.</p><p class="p1">“I should’ve known. Think I can recruit you to join the Chinchillas?”</p><p class="p1">“Never. Bats forever,” Jeno haughtily declares his allegiance to his favorite childhood team despite Kyungsoo’s pleas to join the Pandora team. His tone darts off in a completely different direction when he softly, cutely asks in return, “What do you guys want to be when you grow up?”</p><p class="p1">You can’t help the wry laugh. “We’re grown up, J. We’re living that life already.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s not true at all,” he retorts, mouth setting into a frown. “Dad didn’t seriously get into politics until I was like.. a kid. An actual kid!”</p><p class="p1">“Maybe I’ll steal your dad’s job then. Become the Vice Premier,” Kyungsoo teases, muffling his laughter when Jeno shoots him a cold look of disapproval. His dad is his idol, you are acutely aware of that, and even Kyungsoo’s playful threat is taken seriously by the teen.</p><p class="p1">You enter the fracas with your usual serene placation of manly arguments, “You know I’m going to sew your clothes forever, J. There’s nothing I want to do other than that.” You’d gotten a college degree in design; if you wanted to, you could probably go off to Europe or America and become a world famous clothing designer. But that couldn’t compare to sitting in your little home with your best friends, sewing them things that make their faces light up in such joyful ways.</p><p class="p1">Above your head, Jeno turns to Kyungsoo and asks, “Are we going to see each other once we’re home?” His words come out with a bit of nervousness, as if he too wanted Kyungsoo in his life from this moment on.</p><p class="p1">“Little man, if you come to visit me in Pandora, I will flaunt my legendary cooking skills for you,” Kyungsoo promises, placing a solemn hand over his heart.</p><p class="p1">You pull a face at him while you squeeze his hand and deadpan, “I’m not sure if you’re allowed to call yourself legendary.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose in displeasure at your sarcastic comment, but Jeno’s earnest voice cuts him off before he can sling back an insult, “You have to come back to Neozone when you can, Soo. There are so many places I bet you haven’t seen. You’re going to adore Marky and his friends, and you need to come to y/n’s house with us.”</p><p class="p1">Leave it to the kid to inspire a burst balloon’s worth of heartwarming sentimentality in you, voice going dewy as you sigh, “If you love the white blueberry fields on the northern limit, you’re going to love my backyard. The whole thing is made up of tiny ivory flowers. It’s better than the best blanket.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, y/n,” Jeno suddenly whispers, tugging you to the side and eliciting a distressed groan from you at the whiplash. He brings his head in close to your ear, “I have a secret I want to tell you.”</p><p class="p1">“Uh oh,” you chuckle, before turning back to Kyungsoo with an entertained grin and instructing him, “Give me a second.”</p><p class="p1">You flop back on your side so you’re face to face with Jeno, and he screws his eyes shut and sucks in a deep breath. What could be this serious that he’s putting himself through this kind of emotional suffering?</p><p class="p1">“I looked up my flower seed.”</p><p class="p1">“What?” you exclaim, trying to keep your voice down but failing hard. “You’re not sixteen yet!”</p><p class="p1">“I know. I got Jaemin to try my government ID but he was blocked from the website. But I did it the old fashioned way, comparing my seed side by side to pictures in the Horticulturist’s Manual.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t have to think that hard to conjure up the image of him in his baseball sweatpants, flipping through the book in the Lee mansion library. He probably had his seed in one hand and a microscope on the desk, to aid in his comparisons to the glossy photos intended for botanists to use, not curious fifteen year olds.</p><p class="p1">You shove his face away from you playfully, “The Horticulturist’s Manual…. you are too much.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s white lilac, which I don’t understand,” he mutters, totally displeased with his premature discovery. You know every boy his age is hoping they’re going to get something like the gladiolus, an eternal symbol of strength and honor.</p><p class="p1">You think back to the flower symbolism books you taken a pass through on a few occasions, and recall something you’ve read, “I’m pretty sure that means youthful innocence.” Jeno shoots you this incredulous look and you shrug, “I’m not making that up.”</p><p class="p1">His age, and perhaps the serendipitous meaning of his flower, comes out in his next comment, “Ugh, I wanted something that screamed <em>Jeno you’re going to be rich and successful</em>!”</p><p class="p1">You smile and finally compose yourself back into whispering tones, covert and conspiratorial, “Hold on, I don’t know why I’m pretending to be appalled, because I looked mine up for the first time too.” </p><p class="p1">Jeno smiles fully, one of his signature grins with his eyes folded up completely in mirth, disbelieving laugh bursting out of him, “What is it? Who made you do it?”</p><p class="p1">“No one made me do it,” you huff, turning back up to face the ceiling so he won’t catch the fact that you are totally lying to him. You’re surprised at the amount of reprieve you feel at revealing your twin secret to the teen. “There was a moment where it made sense to. It wasn’t because of a person.”</p><p class="p1">That night had been a culmination of too many signs to ignore, each one threading right through you in your haste to get to the computer, never surer of a thing you needed to do in your life. And you were rewarded with a perfect revelation, one you do not feel an ounce of regret about.</p><p class="p1">Jeno yawns deeply, then buries his face into your shoulder to murmur, “I don’t believe you. Love you, goodnight.”</p><p class="p1">The weight of him on you attempts to lull you into a semblance of peaceful sleep, but it quickly betrays you. Your conversation had been normal to the point that you’d forgotten the devastation his body is slogging through, the remembrance hitting you like a lead weight when his first tremor rocks you. His trembling is incessant, his whole body shaking as it fights to keep him both alive and asleep. If you could swap your existence into his, you’d take that chance, to give him one night without suffering.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, the flower seed,” Kyungsoo hums, the sound of his voice a welcome distraction. “Neozone’s most treasured tradition.”</p><p class="p1">“Are you saying that sarcastically?”</p><p class="p1">He rolls his eyes. “Of course. I looked mine up at sixteen and have not thought of it since. So much rides on the notion of confirming true love through a magically blossoming flower that it’s almost become a mockery of itself.”</p><p class="p1">You nearly want to ask Kyungsoo if he has crossed paths with you somehow, has somehow been spying on you. Because you’ve heard an almost identical sentiment before, silvery and lethal. You point it out before you can tell your mouth not to, “Reminds me of someone I know.”</p><p class="p1">The statement piques Kyungsoo’s curiosity fully and he turns on his side to face you, eyebrow lifted, mouth pursed in amusement as he clarifies, “That person he was talking about?”</p><p class="p1">“That person he was talking about exists nowhere else but his imagination,” you state simply, to throw Kyungsoo off the trail of his interest. You’re convinced that person only exists in your imagination as well.</p><p class="p1">He wants to press, it’s obvious by the way his lips open with a query, but he does respect you enough to not do so. He hums half a verse of Candy to get you to tumble into the hands of slumber, but all that is going through your ears is not the lyrics, but two sentences, packed with nonchalance and disdain. <em>I don’t care. And will continue to not care until the girl I’m with inevitably begs me to.</em></p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Ah! Y/n!”</p><p class="p1">You’re already screaming at the sound of the terrorized yell, eyes not even open yet, “Jeno, Jeno, what’s going on?” Your eyes are still closed as you spring up from your sleeping position, and they don’t fly open until you try to take a step towards the location of the yell and are yanked back into position by something.</p><p class="p1">Gone is the twisted knot of fraying rope, and in its place is a metal cuff, silver coolness branding itself into your skin. The matching metal link chain is threaded through a brass ring embedded into the floor, coming up to an identical shackle locked into place on Kyungsoo’s arm.</p><p class="p1">You scramble over to where he’s somehow still sleeping and shake him awake with a desperate plea, “Kyungsoo!” He jolts up the moment you touch him, immediately glancing down at the foreign feeling around his wrist, mouth falling open when he sees that you’ve been shackled together in place.</p><p class="p1">The two of you lock eyes for one loaded, terrible second, then you peer out into the space you’ve been occupying.</p><p class="p1">Jeno is on his knees in the middle of the domineering empty space, bent over completely as he clutches at his left leg in agony. Mousy has the camera over his shoulder and is shoving it right into the boy’s face as Hefty berates him, “Seven days have passed and there has been no word from your father. What do you have to say about that?”</p><p class="p1">There’s been no word from Michael? That’s impossible.</p><p class="p1">Hefty lacks total impulse control as he absolutely bellows into Jeno’s stunned face, “What do you have to say about that?!”</p><p class="p1">“I-I don’t know, sir!” Jeno stutters as he attempts to maintain dignity in the face of fear, even offering, “Would you like me to read the statement again? I’ll do it!”</p><p class="p1">“What’s going on? Why are they acting so crazy?” you mutter to yourself, which is a crazy statement for you to make on its own, considering you are being held as a hostage by <em>kidnappers.</em></p><p class="p1">“I will be making the statement today,” Pushy booms over the swell of the chaos, plunging the room into icy silence. You’re not allowing yourself to feel relief just yet, because while he’s treated Jeno with a decent level of respect before this incident, there’s no guarantee he’ll do so now, considering what you’re watching.</p><p class="p1">Your captors have not shown themselves on camera the entire time, carefully standing in positions that will allow only their voice to peek through. But Pushy tosses this care to the wayside as he strides to stand in front of Jeno in the lens's direct view. There's a mysteriously large satchel in his grasp, and he is imposing in his dark as midnight outfit, chilling shadow crossing the visible part of his face under his mask.</p><p class="p1">“Today is the two hundredth anniversary of the founding of Dorado. But that’s not exactly right. Today should not be viewed as an anniversary, but a day of mourning, for the future that has slipped out of our hands. Too long have we been closed off from a chance at prosperity, forced into begging for the basic resources to meet our need for survival. We’ve asked your esteemed Premier, your beloved Vice Premier, but they have not done enough for us. We were once the powerhouse of this nation, and will one day return to that pedestal that we belong on.”</p><p class="p1">You’re poised to dive into the vat of bewilderment he’s unleashed with yet another vague statement. But Pushy lifts his hand in an arrogant salute to the camera and the motion causes the hem of his black sweater to ride up from where it’d been sitting on his waist.</p><p class="p1">The flash of hexagonal gold is only visible for a second, but it’s undeniable. Your hand grasps for purchase against the arm of the person beside you as your mouth moves in shock, “Kyungsoo— His belt buckle.”</p><p class="p1">“The Growl Conflict symbol,” Kyungsoo gasps, also recognizing it without hesitation. “Y/n, they’re… they’re from…”</p><p class="p1">He isn’t able to finish the thought because Hefty emerges from behind the camera and roughly grabs Jeno by the collar of his shirt with one hand, the still unstained strawberry you’d sewn straining under the upward jerk. He forces the boy to stand up, completely disregarding the amount of discomfort that will put him in, and Pushy once again stands in between the two of them.</p><p class="p1">“To the leaders of our nation," Pushy addresses the camera directly, "In commemoration of the truth of our history, and in retribution for the level of atrocities your people have committed against mine, there shall be a fight until one of these honorable men meets their demise by the hand of the sacred sword.”</p><p class="p1">Jeno flinches in undiluted, devout fear as Pushy unveils two gleaming, silver swords from the shapeless bag he was holding them in and holds them aloft in reverence. </p><p class="p1">“This will be done in full respect to the ancestors we are descended from,” the leader solemnly proclaims. He passes off the first weapon to Jeno, who nearly drops it due to the weight and his dwindling strength. The leader then anoints Hefty with the other sword, the menacing device seemingly an extension of the man’s frame, and settles back into place.</p><p class="p1">"We will honor the noble battle of the first leader of Neozone,” Pushy gestures to Jeno first, then his voice swells with pride as he gestures to his gargantuan comrade, “against the first leader of Elyxion.”</p><p class="p1">“No, no, no, no,” Kyungsoo’s horrified gasps reverberate against the vivid memory that comes barreling back into your brain.</p><p class="p1">You and Michael together in his office during your first week in his care, you folded into the couch beside him. Being half anxious, half curious as you pore over the historical maps and discuss the propagated urban legends of the nation. <em>The first leaders of Neozone and Elyxion literally had a sword duel to determine who gained possession of the river and the flowered land.</em></p><p class="p1">Back then, the anxiety tapered away as you recalled the play fighting you did with your father, exaggerated and silly, with harmless cardboard instead of welding killing machines. The first leader of Neozone had won control over the flowered land by driving his sword through the Elyxion leader’s eye. But he’d been the head of his people, a skilled warrior in his own right. Not a fifteen year old boy.</p><p class="p1">“Vice Premier Lee, you did not come to save your son. So you will have to watch the consequences of your own actions.”</p><p class="p1">With that last declaration, confident and chilling in a highly disturbing manner, Pushy stalks out of the scene. And not a moment later, the point of Hefty’s sword is leveled right at Jeno’s chest. The teen takes a cowering step back, trying to get out of range, and that only incites the man’s ire, “Lift your sword. Lift it!”</p><p class="p1">Jeno looks down at the metal in his hand, completely lost as to what to do. He flexes one hand around the handle, then the other meets it, the weapon wielded in his hands like a baseball bat, the most familiar thing for him. Hefty smirks when he sees the action, surely confident that he’s going to strike him down with no problem. But when he swings his own weapon, Jeno’s meets him in the middle with a ferociously detonating clang of sparked metal.</p><p class="p1">The man is twice Jeno’s size, experienced and arrogant, sword a lethal ribbon of silver light as it clashes against the teen’s. Jeno is holding his own to the best of his ability, strength from his baseball workouts keeping him in the fight, hands flying when he parries the forceful blows. If you squint, he could almost be at batting practice, swinging wildly at balls Mark tosses his way. He limps back and forth as he dodges advance after advance, fresh blood dripping down his pant leg when his newly closed wound rips apart again.Mousy follows the action with his camera from a close distance, a personal look at the horrid violence, and behind him, Pushy takes in the fight with a satisfied gleam in his eye.</p><p class="p1">You’ve almost worked yourself to the frame of the mind that Jeno could win this fight when the point of Hefty’s sword razes against the boy’s shoulder, sending him to the floor in a tumble of agony.</p><p class="p1">“We have to get out of these, he’s going to die!” you gasp desperately as you snap out of your delusions, forearm straining with effort as you try again and again to snap the unbending cuff and chain. There’s nothing around you, no battering ram, nothing big or heavy enough to snap the links.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is doing the exact same, muscles flexing hard as he tries to pull himself out, “I know, I know, but how?!”</p><p class="p1">You glance down once again at the cuffs shackling your wrists. Though Kyungsoo is not much taller than you, his hand dwarfs the circlet of metal. But yours, there’s just the right amount of tantalizing wiggle room around your wrist.</p><p class="p1">“Break my hand,” you mumble, mouth having trouble forming the absurd request. When Kyungsoo makes a noise of confusion, you scream it at him, “Kyungsoo! Break my hand!”</p><p class="p1">“I…” he hesitates, silence punctuated by another shatter of ores against each other. “I can’t.”</p><p class="p1">“Do it!” You pinch at your left palm as you order him again, reminding yourself one last time of what it feels like to have a normal hand attached to your arm, knowing exactly what you’re about to feel.</p><p class="p1">He shoots up into a standing position, convinced and frenzied enough to acquiesce to your instruction. Hovering on the balls of his feet in complete trepidation, Kyungsoo watches as you place your left hand on the ground, spreading it out on the cool concrete so he has the best vantage point to exert the most force.</p><p class="p1">“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.</p><p class="p1">You turn your face the complete other way, tucking your head into your shoulder and screwing your eyes shut. No sooner than you’ve seen darkness does it explode into a supernova of suffering, the moment Kyungsoo’s foot slams down across the bones of your palm. It’s as if he’s plucked the strains of time apart, so you’re intimately privy to each way the metatarsals in the width of your hand crack, no, rupture into nothingness.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck!” you sob, unsure if it comes out a scream or a sigh. “Fuck, fuck!”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo collapses beside you, whites of his eyes quaking as he takes in what he’s done, the plum stain that has already dashed across your hand. Your face crumples in torment when he gently tries to gather your limp appendage together and shimmy it out of the handcuff. You shoulder him off in favor of doing it yourself, pushing aside all delicacy to literally shove your flesh into a smaller ball that can fit through the opening.</p><p class="p1">One eye on your hand trying to pull itself out of the cuff, one eye on the fight, you hurry your escape mission along as fast as you can. The breadth of your palm is starting to slip through the cuff when the two swords collide, and in one fluid motion, Hefty uses his weapon to jerk the sword out of Jeno’s hand, sending it flying out of his grasp. The teen falls to the concrete with the impetus of the action, scrambling backwards in haste to get out of the way.</p><p class="p1">“Please, please, please,” you whimper, delirium of pain beginning to set in as you fold your hand in every way you can, trying to fit the rest of your shattered bones through your constraint. He’s almost by the wall, Jeno almost is at the point of no return, come on, come on.</p><p class="p1">“In Elyxion’s honor, I take your life—,” Hefty promulgates, taste of victory on his tongue as he raises the sword for his killing blow.</p><p class="p1">A killing blow that transfigures into the resonant detonation of metal meeting metal. His sword has met Jeno’s once more, only it’s not in the boy’s hand. It’s in yours.</p><p class="p1">“Jeno,” you grit out, straining under the weight of Hefty's strength bearing down on you. “Go to Kyungsoo.”</p><p class="p1">With a great groan, you shove the thug off you, taking a defensive stance with the sword held up again in your right, less injured hand. There’s the sound of someone scrambling, but you do not dare to turn your head and see if Jeno’s made it to relative safety by Kyungsoo. You glare at Hefty, who is absolutely beside himself with fury that you’ve robbed him of the chance to kill the Vice Premier’s son.</p><p class="p1">“You fucking cunt,” he spits at you, before allowing the imperiousness to return, specifically when he notices the flexing discomfort of your broken left hand. “Alright, it’s no matter to me if you die first.”</p><p class="p1">Then he’s off again, hacking away in your direction, this time with much less precision and far more unadulterated evil. You have the advantage of the deranged protection instinct that’s coursing through you now, consuming you with the sole motive to shield Jeno, to give up your life for his if necessary. Even though you’re limited to using only one hand, it’s as if your fingers are glued around the weapon as you block blow after blow, dancing around your opponent in large, avoidant circles to tempt him into exposing himself. All you need is for him to slip for a moment.</p><p class="p1">Despite your strategy of defense, at one point you manage to slash open a gash upon his cheek. But that does not slow him down one bit, it only serves to incite his ire and he begins to swing even more wildly, the blade tip coming perilously closer to you with each step he takes. When you barely raise your sword in top to stop his latest jab, he catches you off guard by raising his unoccupied fist and slamming it down across your already tender cheek. You can’t control your head snapping to the side with the force of his blow, torso twisting with it in a Newtonian reaction.</p><p class="p1">Then your entire being is shredded apart by the blade of his sword.</p><p class="p1">Falling to the ground, your head hitting the concrete with a dull thud, you hazily think that if Kyungsoo breaking your hand was the most agonizing pain you’ve ever experienced in this life, this is like they’ve taken that pain and lit it on fire under the lens of a magnifying glass and the burning sun. From your left hip to your right shoulder is a rainbow of excruciating throb, sensation of your potentially exposed spine taking over any other sensation you have left in your body, save for the pointed drip of your blood down your back.</p><p class="p1">You’re in the throes of delirium now, arms doing nothing to support you in your crazed effort to get back upright, vision clouded over into nothingness as you collapse again and again. The slick of blood against the floor does not help, sending your hands sliding everywhere as you ignore the protests of your limbs. You need to get up, Jeno and Kyungsoo are there, they’re unarmed, they’re vulnerable. You have to get up, you have to get up.</p><p class="p1">Your eyes start to adjust to the gallon of pain they're doused in, dregs of perception starting to return when you look back up once more. You slip again on your own blood, chest crushing back down onto the floor as you watch the scene with a sick, paralyzing fascination. That means you’re treated to the sight of Kyungsoo attempting to defend Jeno with his own chained up body, the sight of Hefty picking him up without a care and dashing him against the nearest concrete column, rendering him instantly unconscious. You feverishly assume that Hefty is going to go over to the older man, to ensure he’s dead by shoving his weapon right through his heart. But that is not what he does.</p><p class="p1">In a flash of motion that catches you completely off guard, the breadth of his longsword carves its way right across Jeno’s unsuspecting chest, and then the hideously pointed end of the weapon drives its way in and out of his stomach.</p><p class="p1">The scream that blasts from the depths of your throat mars the flesh right off your vocal cords, decibel of sound raw and haunting.</p><p class="p1">You launch yourself at the thug, colliding with the steely expanse of his torso, and you rocket your blade through his covered skull, the point of the sword exploding out of the front of his eye. A shower of his white hot blood rains across your face and your arm, boils of his life’s essence tattooing themselves on to your skin. As you leap off his back, Hefty collapses to the floor, dead.</p><p class="p1">There’s commotion from behind you to your garbled ears, which turns out to be Mousy, camera still lifted over his shoulder, screaming at his frozen teammate, “Use your fucking gun! Shoot her!”</p><p class="p1">Like a woman possessed, in one fluid motion you extricate the sword from where it's lodged in the thug’s head and go sprinting at the no longer composed kidnapper. Pushy fumbles for the gun holstered in his side pocket but you’re set upon him in less than a breath’s length of time. The fear is palpable in his eyes, an incredibly ironic observation you make as you thrust the sword right through the concealed skin of his throat, deleting his existence from the earth.</p><p class="p1">The camera goes careening to the floor with a crash when Mousy drops it in alarm that he’s next. The fucking coward scurries away, thinking you’re not going to give chase, but you don’t need to. Reaching around the edge of the ringleader’s still body, you snatch up the gun, and level it right at the last goon’s retreating back. You don’t hesitate in pulling the trigger, unloading round after round, sending him dodging the molten lead like the disgusting rat he is. You keep shooting at him until one bullet lodges itself right into the back of his head, and he hits the floor like a lifeless bag of bricks.</p><p class="p1">They’re dead now, all there’s left to do is get back to Jeno.</p><p class="p1">You try to run to where he is but end up tripping over your own feet and tumbling to the ground. Your body is no longer able to support the level of pain you’re composed of, your mangled hands are useless to catch your fall. No longer possessing the capacity to control the catastrophic shaking of your limbs, you drag yourself the rest of the way over to where he’s laying, huddling into a heap that is a quarter of the usual size of your body.</p><p class="p1">“Hi, it’s me. It’s just us, it’s okay,” you sob, unable to traverse the space between you, to touch him with your trembling, destroyed fingers. You can’t think, you can’t think. Your hands stay in the orbit above his chest, “What do I do?!”</p><p class="p1">Jeno’s eyes convulse behind his fluttering lids and his labored breathing crackles into your ears. He’s been hewn in half, from his left hipbone to his right shoulder, precious life draining from his gouged skin, torso ripped apart so savagely all you can make out is the raw, angry red exposed muscle underneath. His middle is cratered completely through, galaxy of clotting blood disguising the gaping view of his inside.</p><p class="p1">Your matching back injury brutalizes against you in protest when you bend over him, but he needs to be in your arms, that’s where he’s supposed to be. Your hands seize with effort as you pull him onto your lap, as you thread them through his baby soft hair to soothe him.</p><p class="p1">“Talk. Please,” Jeno wheezes, a bolus of blood bursting up between his parted lips, him giving his full effort just to get the two words out.</p><p class="p1">A tear dripped from your eyelid careens against his forehead. What could you possibly say to fulfill his request, what can you do to reverse the immobilizing sensation spread out across your tongue? The sole instance of consciousness in your mind is telling you to hold onto him for dear life and weep. But you’re doing that and you can still feel the way his chest has failed to brush against your arm with the last two breaths he’s taken, getting shallower and more gasping. He’s pleading with you, begging for an ounce of comfort, sitting here in silence would be punishingly unacceptable.</p><p class="p1">“I think there’s a boy from home I actually want to marry,” your voice comes out delicately despite your ravaged body, followed by a shocked laugh at the explosive topic that had arose out of nowhere. “I think. I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">In a moment of peace, his lips quirk up into an amused smile, “Oh yeah? Do you love him?” The actions quickly send him into another fit of coughing, body rigid and agitated, but once he manages to calm down, there’s the barest hint of his signature gleam in his eyes.</p><p class="p1">You sniff, then bare your heart to him in a grotesquely metaphorical representation of his physical injury, “I have no idea.”</p><p class="p1">“You probably do.” He states with full confidence, like he’s the adult and you’re the teen. His sentence is all solemn sincerity, hitting you hard. Is it possible that you actually are in love with that person? His pinky brushes yours, then the cheeky words come out, “Is it my brother?”</p><p class="p1">Another gruff bark of laughter escapes you, at his confirmation that he’s been doing sly undercover work for Mark all along. You nod, “If that will make you happy, then yes.”</p><p class="p1">“You gotta—,” Jeno hacks again, and this time the blood goes meteor-ing all over his chest, dashing against the smiling strawberry on his breast pocket. He calms again, then finishes, “You gotta tell me.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve told him off time and time again for prying into your life like this. You’re prepared to do the same now, to pretend like you’re back in the mansion, you two bickering about it as obnoxiously as always. But it’s too different, and here’s the blunt truth of the difference. Your secret is never going to be divulged if you tell him who the boy is. And you know that telling him will bring you the reprieve you’ve been waiting for, will unshoulder the burden for only a moment.</p><p class="p1">You tuck your head down, Jeno’s tiny face below you, and bring your mouth to his ear. As gentle as a flower petal floating on the breeze, the syllables making up the name of the person who’s captivated you so wholly make themselves known in a whisper. </p><p class="p1">Jeno head dips in a miniscule nod, and that’s all you’re thinking you’re going to get. But in a tender tone, effortful yet honest, four words from him burrow their way into the cavernous expanse of your heart, “I’m sure he does.”</p><p class="p1">“You think so?” You push back his bangs from his sweaty forehead, delighted smile weighing heavy and ironic on your face.</p><p class="p1">The most heartfelt confession you will ever get from someone comes from the boy in your arms, “You were the easiest person to love that I’ve ever loved in my life.”</p><p class="p1">“You too, I’m so lucky that I have you,” you echo as you press your nose against his, your cerise blotches of blood a compliment to his burgundy stains, screwing your eyes shut as you try to soak every bit of him in. You should’ve hugged him a thousand times over, every time you’d seen him you should’ve hugged him. You’re making up for it now, cradling him like he’s your own. Who cares what they say, Jeno Lee is your little brother and forever will be.</p><p class="p1">But he doesn’t wince in pain when your arm presses at his wounded torso, he only giggles when your cheek tickles his, as if that’s the only sensation he can pick up. His eyelids spiral closed, and you nearly pass out in fear when they take their sweet time re-opening again. His mouth falters with muteness, like he can’t make the words come out, before you hear the little, fearful, “Y/n, what’s happening? What’s happening to me?” </p><p class="p1">Your face crumples where it’s hidden into his shoulder, tears wetting his shirt, “I don’t know, Nono, I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">You blast into a flurry of action, delicately placing him back down on the ground, another round of tears squeezing out of your eyes when you have to put your weight on your broken hand to get up from where you’re sitting. You’re unchained, there’s no one here left to beat you back, if you can get out, Jeno can be saved, he’ll be saved, he’ll be okay.</p><p class="p1">“No, y/n, don’t go!” he whines, sending himself into another coughing fit.</p><p class="p1">You cup his face, then dot a kiss against his cheek and implore, “Wait for me for just a second okay? You can do it.”</p><p class="p1">Your skirt flies around your legs as you run over to the space the three kidnappers had occupied, but there’s nothing but their discarded food wrappers and the tiny bathroom that they let you use. There’s no door, no visible escape route or means of communication, no phones you can see, not a single morsel of information that could clue you in to where you’re at.</p><p class="p1">Then you see it, that beckoning six feet of window covering that you’d nearly become acquainted with. The sliver of moonlight is gone, replaced with a tempting strip of golden sunlight. It’d represented so much hope and possibility the time before, but this is your last shot now. Your fingers curl around the edge of the black covering, and your tentative head peeks in through the space you create.</p><p class="p1">After a week of adjusting to relative darkness, the flood of sun bites at your eyes, harsh, and the blast of freezing air through the glass window sends gooseflesh skittering across your bare, bloody arms. You’re lofted up at the top of some structure, too far to attempt jumping out of the opening, so you dramatically press your face into the clear glass to sleuth out your surroundings.</p><p class="p1">There’s a set of official looking white buildings on the other side of the roadway, the block littered with green trees. The street is devoid of cars, there isn’t a single person out on the sidewalks. You don’t want to leap right into the premonition you feel, that you’ve come across this location before, so you stand on your tiptoes to peer straight down into the space directly below you. You’re met with a set of gleaming marble steps, and a pole displaying the proud green of the Pandora flag.</p><p class="p1">You blink and see Michael kneeling in the center of it all.</p><p class="p1">Then you’re tearing back to where the dropped camera is lying prone on the ground next to its deceased owner. Somehow, the blinking red light is still flashing, your newfound beacon of hope, and you spin the lens in your direction, ominous and comforting at the same time. The frantic pleas billow from your mouth, “I don’t know who’s watching this, but we’re in the Pandora Building, somewhere at the top, I can see the steps right below me, but I can’t find the door, please, please, please come find us! Hurry, please!”</p><p class="p1">You toss the camera aside and crawl your way back to Jeno, gentle hands lifting him back into your embrace. You kiss his cheek once again and whisper, “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t answer you right away, his chest is barely mustering a millimeter’s worth of lift, breathing now touching into the extreme zones of exhaustion. The sticky pads of his fingers attempt a grasp at your arm, but he’s no longer in possession of the faculty to do so. His hand falls away but you catch it, kissing his little fingers over and over. It’s like he’s twelve again, voice so innocently desperate as he begs through his burst of fresh tears, “Please don’t let me die, please, please don’t y/n.”</p><p class="p1">“I won’t,” you whisper, the saltiness of your shared tears mixing on his face. “I promise.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m so scared, I want Mommy.” He’s no longer gazing up at your face, his eyes are preoccupied by the nothing space in the distance, eyes blankly staring out into the air. “Is that her?”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even have to look to know no one’s there, that his brain has turned to comfort as it eases him into his transition. Even if someone heard your message, they won’t make it here in time. There’s nothing left for you to do but to send the boy off, wrapped up in the sweetest blanket of sentimentally false promises.</p><p class="p1">“She’ll be here soon,” you reassure him, smoothing out his hair again and again as you fight to hold it together. “She told me she was coming.”</p><p class="p1">Jeno’s eyelids pirouette closed with contentment at the reassurance you’ve given him, but that’s not enough. That’s not enough at all.</p><p class="p1">“We’re going to get you home, and get you healed up so prettily,” you hum in a soft timbre, unsure if he’s able to hear you but wanting to get it out nonetheless. Your fingers dance over the smiling strawberry, now ruined with his blood, “I’ll sew you another one of these for your first day back,” and then they ghost over the cleft in his chest, “and by the time baseball season starts this will be just a scar. You’ll get to the major leagues before you know it. At your first game, they’ll crown you the next Taeil Moon and you’ll point to us, sitting in the stands with our obnoxious signs.” You hold him to your chest, and swear on your own life, “You’re going to be so happy, Jeno, so, so, <em>so </em>happy.”</p><p class="p1">There’s not a sound from him, you can no longer make out the brush of his chest against your arm and you pull back with a horrified, strangled noise to check to see if he’s still there with you. You see that his eyes are blankly open again, happy little smile dancing on his lips as he crows, “Mommy, you’re here! And Daddy!” When his hollow gaze meets yours, there’s a labored flash of surprise as he asks, “Y/n, you’re here too?,” like he’s seeing you for the first time.</p><p class="p1">“We’re here, J. We’ll always be here.”</p><p class="p1">That is the last true promise you can make him. You will always be by his side, in this life, the next, every life after that you’re privileged enough to have. No matter where you are, what you’re doing, you’ll be with him. You kiss him on the forehead, one note of true love, then you hug him, hug your little brother, for the final time.</p><p class="p1">Jeno’s last words are bursting to the brim with the same carefree, happy, innocent delight he’d lived his life with. It's a softly beckoning final call from him, to the person he loves, “Marky, you’re here!”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i'm sorry it had to be this way, but it is what it is. thank you for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. lilium candidum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It should be a beautiful sight, the first snow of the year is always so magical. But all you can think about is building snowmen in your backyard, how each winter Jeno insisted on saving a Tupperware of the first snow in your freezer for as long as he could.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“How is she, doc?”</p><p class="p1">Your hearing has returned, which means that you’re awake, yet your head is not laid upon the bruising concrete you’d spent the past week resting on. You’re surrounded on all sides by comfortable fluff, nestled in the middle of a cloud. Not in any condition to open your eyes yet, let alone open your mouth to speak, you lay there in helpless silence, listening in on the discussion about you.</p><p class="p1">The man you assume is the aforementioned doctor answers the query, “Vitals are good. She’ll be awake soon, the anesthesia was designed to wear off by the time she got back to the city. The other young man was transported in this manner to his acquaintance’s home as well.”</p><p class="p1">Ah right, you’re not in the Pandora Building anymore. Your medical team had to tranquilize you in order to transport you somewhere on the train, unable to face that particular mode of transportation while conscious. It was either going under or being restrained to the bed, which had been quite a simple decision for you, considering.</p><p class="p1">“What about her injuries?” The second man asks, voice familiar and laced with complete concern.</p><p class="p1">“Very touch and go. The back wound is going to leave quite a severe scar.”</p><p class="p1">His words set alight the sensation of your torso, the scratchy bandages wrapping you up from waist to clavicle. You’re pumped through with all sorts of drugs, but they’re doing little to nothing to alleviate the unrelenting throb that rockets up the longitude of your back. This is the wrong scar you’re supposed to have. It should’ve been you to get the front facing gash, you shouldn’t have been the one who ended up in this bed, not you.</p><p class="p1">“And her hands?”</p><p class="p1">“The bones are set in the left, and the right is stitched up.” You take an experimental flex of your hands, the left encased in a hard shell of casting, blocked into immobility. The right is more freely bound, but you pick up the sensation of artificial silk holding your skin together. “You said she was a seamstress, right?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes.”</p><p class="p1">“She will need extensive physical therapy to regain mobility in her left hand, and the cuts on her dominant hand will have to heal properly. Only time will reveal if she’ll ever be able to sew again.” No, no, that’s impossible. You have to sew again, you can’t let it end like this. You need to make another strawberry shirt, you’d promised to make another one.</p><p class="p1">That plucks the shocked, timid, “What?” from your mouth.</p><p class="p1">“Hi, sweetheart,” that familiar voice spins into you, and your eyes slog open.</p><p class="p1">First, you see the willowy gauze of a four poster canopy bed above you, then Michael’s relieved face comes into focus. Your impulse is to bolt your vision shut before you start crying at the sight of him, but you’re so equally as relieved to see him that your club hands fly out from under the covers to clutch at his arm. He delicately takes them and murmurs, “You’re awake?”</p><p class="p1">You try to move yourself up on the pillow but are unable to, only able to rigidly lie there and wonder out loud, “Where am I?”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s father’s arm goes around your shoulders, carefully lifting you so you can slant onto his side and better see your surroundings. He whispers to you, “You’re in your old bedroom, you’re home.” It’s not your home, not exactly, but it’s the guest room in his mansion where you’d stay on nights you’d sleep over. Even then, there's no sense of relief that follows.</p><p class="p1">From where you’re tucked into his chest, you catch the gold embroidery of an eagle on the slip of silk around his neck, and you mumble, “You’re wearing the tie… You only wear it at official occasions.”</p><p class="p1">“There’s a small gathering today. For J—,” his voice cracks fully when he stops himself from saying the full name, and mournfully amends, “for the kid.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not entirely sure how you get from sitting in his grasp to standing up, hand on the doorknob, vision already spotting through with the wail of pain that shoots up from your back. Michael accosts you before you can get a foot out the exit, careful but firm hand going around your arm, “What are you doing?”</p><p class="p1">Your mouth moves of its own accord, “Jeno. Jeno.” You can’t manage anything else, but he knows what you mean. If there’s a day of remembrance for Jeno you want to be there. You’d already had to miss his funeral because of your back surgery. You cannot dwell in the twilight of your suffering any further, you have to brace yourself to confront the cavern in your reality.</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay, it’s good for her to walk,” the doctor reassures Michael as he keeps a hand on you, to prevent you from hurting yourself. “Just watch her, make sure she doesn’t overexert herself. I’ll check in again before we go and transfer her files over to the head of orthopedics here.”</p><p class="p1">As the doctor gathers up his things and leaves to give you privacy, you look down at yourself for the first time, most of the gore on your body is covered up in the loose black linens they’ve dressed you in, socked feet tucked into a pair of Mark’s old Adidas slides, and your hair feels semi clean where it’s braided to the side. It’s like you’re hovering on the precipice of life and death, both feet firmly on one side but your consciousness reaching to the other.</p><p class="p1">“Do you feel okay to walk on your own?” Michael asks, and your legs wobble as if they’re cued up by his query. He extends his elbow to you, “Here, let me help.”</p><p class="p1">You curve your banged up right hand inside the crook of his arm, leaning most of your bodyweight into him. It doesn’t hurt terribly to walk, in fact, after spending most of the past two weeks immobile in a hospital bed, this walk seems to be the most freeing thing you can do at this moment. The Vice Premier must sense your apprehension at doing anything more than mumbling a few words, and chooses to walk the rest of the way in not-quite-comfortable silence.</p><p class="p1">The pink tulips lining the hallways have all wilted, sitting untouched and unwatered for the time you’ve been away, as if the whole house was on pause. The mantels aren't dusted, the curtains are wrinkled, and there's a fine layer of dust covering everything in sight. It’s already December if you remember right, and there’s not a hint of the requisite Christmas decorations up around the mansion. Everything is so awful.</p><p class="p1">“How are you doing?” Michael ventures, when you come to a stop outside the ballroom, the hushed chatter from inside pealing through the doors.</p><p class="p1">You stay mute.</p><p class="p1">There’s no proper way to answer this without breaking down, insulting him, or a combination of both. If you take too deep of an introspective dive into your feelings, you’re going to show up to this remembrance an absolute mess. But if you lie and say that you’re okay, that would be an incredibly privileged answer to give to a man who’d had to watch his son die.</p><p class="p1">“It’s snowing outside,” he murmurs. “First time this year.”</p><p class="p1">Michael’s wistful gaze is peering out of the frost-covered window, at the pearls of snow that are tumbling from the sky. It should be a beautiful sight, the first snow of the year is always so magical. But all you can think about is building snowmen in your backyard, how each winter Jeno insisted on saving a Tupperware of the first snow in your freezer for as long as he could. This is how it’s going to be from now on, every minuscule event in your life tainted with his memory, unable to think, unable to exist without framing it in his context.</p><p class="p1">The Pandora soldier positioned outside of the door nods at Michael, the familiarity between them a strange sight. Michael exerts a morsel more of pressure on your hand, to get you to follow him to the door, rather than stay in your spot and lose yourself in the reminiscing. But the soldier lacks the older man’s tact, because he doesn’t take you into consideration when he throws the door wide open without warning.</p><p class="p1">Michael steps in front of you the moment the noise in the room palpably quiets as everyone turns to stare. It’s as if you’re in front of that camera lens again, each pair of eyes in the gathering as ominous and expecting as that device had been. You duck behind him fearfully, hoping his broad frame will conceal you from the gawking, that his commanding presence will force people into keeping their mouths shut about you.</p><p class="p1">Of course, that is completely unreasonable of you to hope, because the hushed titters fire up as soon as they see your cast in his grip. You take a peek out into the crowd and not a single person is doing something other than gaping right at you, drinks and conversations all forgotten. You bury your head into his shoulder blade, trying your best to keep the hyperventilation at bay.</p><p class="p1">“Is this okay?” He murmurs, not turning his head or moving his mouth much to give you away. “If you want to go home, I can get Winwin to take you.”</p><p class="p1">When you peer over Michael’s shoulder again, you see the portrait of Jeno they have at the front of the room — his incredibly handsome school photo from this past year, frame lined with the ivory lilies of mourning. This is for him.</p><p class="p1">“No,” you whisper back. “It’s okay.”</p><p class="p1">“I will get you water and be right back. Stay here,” he instructs, placing you firmly by a flower arrangement that does a lot to conceal you from public view.</p><p class="p1">You’re quickly forgotten the moment the doors open again and Mark strides in past you. In his quest to join his father, he misses you standing there completely. This is the first time you’ve laid eyes on him since Changmin’s blossom ceremony, and he doesn’t stop for a long enough time to register his emotional state. You’re glad he doesn’t, because the minute you’re confronted with his surely devastated face, you’re going to break apart all over again.</p><p class="p1">The posse of stares locks onto your best friend and follows him as he walks over to Michael. You take that moment of reprieve to glance around the room, pick out any allies you might have to get you through this. General Suh and John are up by the front of the room, in a place too exposed to go up to, same with the Nakamotos. Doyoung, Haechan, and Lucas are all around the table of offerings, too far away to get to from where you’re standing. Mimi and her family are in a corner that is isolated enough, but she and Binnie are sobbing to the point that they can’t keep it together, and you can’t hazard joining in. Though nobody is currently paying attention to you, it feels like you’re trapped.</p><p class="p1">There is one head of curly hair turned in your direction. There. You’ll go over there.</p><p class="p1">Before you can, you feel a tug on the sleeve of your shirt and hear a quiet, “Y/n.”</p><p class="p1">You move your head carefully to the left, so as not to exacerbate your injuries, nearly doing so anyways when you see, “Jaemin?”</p><p class="p1">Jeno’s best friend is nervously hovering beside you, bottomless pits of darkness stained under his eyes, tears flecked against his eyelashes, absolute grief pouring off him in tangible waves. They were supposed to go play baseball together that day, the two of them were supposed to be the stars of the next generation. It’s so unfair.</p><p class="p1">“This is for you.” He has one plucked violet in his fingers, the bud swaying back and forth in his grasp as he carefully passes it off to your less damaged hand.</p><p class="p1">The gesture recalls that first day, when Jeno had brought purple flowers to the train station for you, a girl who was supposed to be a dude, a girl that he’d never met before. Your face crumples into a shredded ball of suffering, the tears flooding down your cheeks when the tender scent wafts into your nostrils. You try to hide your face in your hands, but that only highlights the rash of injuries you’re in possession of.</p><p class="p1">Jaemin sweeps you into a hug, the action comforting but horrifying. Because his arms around you feel just like Jeno’s, yet you can still feel the pulse of his heart so keenly in his chest. This is kind, but it is no substitute for the real thing. However, you choose to cling onto him anyways, pressing your face into the shoulder of his suit as you hear a hurricane of shoe clicking sounds.</p><p class="p1">“Get away from her, Minmin,” Mrs. Na hisses as she rips her son out of your hold.</p><p class="p1">Those gathered are once again watching the scene unfold, no longer preoccupied with Mark’s presence. Jaehyun is right there behind the woman, too, as if he’d been approaching, with Johnny and Yuta not far behind him.</p><p class="p1">“Ouch, Mom, what the hell!” Jaemin bristles at his mother’s roughness, yanking his arm out of her grasp to stand in front of you in a protective stance. “You’re being hysterical.”</p><p class="p1">She snatches him up, tugging him with brute force away from you as she exclaims, “You saw what she did to those men!”</p><p class="p1">Everybody in direct vicinity freezes up at her words, you included. Is she… is she implying that you’d murdered in cold blood? For sport or fun? That can’t be what she’s saying, no, why is there readable fear in her eyes right now?</p><p class="p1">“No, it wasn’t, that wasn’t what I wanted to do. It, I was just protecting him. That’s what I was doing,” you try to justify yourself to her, but she flinches away so violently she almost knocks a vase off the side table. You feel the crippling desperation come roaring in as you plead with her, “No, Mrs. Na, that wasn’t it, I promise. That wasn’t it.”</p><p class="p1">Your words fall on deaf ears as she promptly marches her son away, forcing a swirl of nausea into your head, as you blink hard to remain consciously there. Michael materializes out of nowhere and instructs his driver, “Mr. Dong, could you please take her home?”</p><p class="p1">“Come with me, ma’am, it’s okay,” Winwin gently tries to take the flower Jaemin had gifted you out of your hand, in order to lead you out to the car, but your head shakes rapidly.</p><p class="p1">“No, no. Don’t do that. Don’t do that.”</p><p class="p1">You need to show Mrs. Na the violet, to show her that you’re not a killer, that you’re just a girl who loves flowers, a girl who’d loved her son’s best friend so fiercely. You take a step forward, but the nausea returns, punishing, to the point where it’s overwhelming now, ensnaring every sense you have.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, are you okay?” Jaehyun’s faint voice floats by. “You don’t look good.”</p><p class="p1">You bolt out of the ballroom as fast as you can, not caring at all that it catapults unbelievable pain up the length of your spine, ignoring the cries of <em>No, don’t run!</em> You need to get out of here, you need to get back home, your real home, you’re going to run all the way there right now without stopping. Once you're across the border, the sweet bluebells of Tactix will end your suffering.</p><p class="p1">The fresh snowfall cascades against your thin clothes when you blast out the doors of the mansion, but you don’t feel a chill whatsoever. You sprint aimlessly onto the sidewalk, and right across the open road, without seeing much of anything except the white precipitation and the hazy outline of the buildings across from you. You don't pick up the muffled squeal of tires, nor the muted honk of horns.</p><p class="p1">You don’t make it far, because you’re stopped in your tracks by a TV display in the electronics store down the street. You can’t hear the news report through the glass, butyou definitely do see the shot of a very recognizable, dark lair, and the reflection of somebody racing up to where you are.</p><p class="p1">“What were you thinking!” Johnny’s voice probably is at a rip-roaring decibel, but to you it’s barely more than a hushed whisper. “You almost got hit by a car!”</p><p class="p1">You pay him no mind, because on the screen now is a girl in a dress, skirt of it in absolute tatters, discolored with patches of carmine that do not match the original cream color. On the television, she trips and falls to the floor, right as the words fall out of your mouth, “What is that? Is that me?”</p><p class="p1">You finally tear your gaze away from the TV to see the trio of young men around you, the trio that can’t do anything more than stutter, “It uh, you, um.” “Uhhhh.” “Ah, it’s, um,”</p><p class="p1">The scene cuts away to an image of Jeno, proudly defiant face staring out of the screen. “Nono, it’s me. I’m right here,” you murmur as you turn back to watch, breath frosting against the glass where your face is pressed up against it. You'll crawl through the screen to rescue him now, all he needs to do is look at you once more.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, come here,” Jaehyun’s mindful words come out as daintily as the pirouetting snowflakes, as his gentle hands turn you around to face him and his amber eyes. “The footage was a national broadcast every night. Every TV in Dorado had its regular programming cut out in deference to the feed.”</p><p class="p1">I mean, that’s just not possible.</p><p class="p1">Finally feeling like you have enough energy to launch into an argument, you’re prepared to tell Jaehyun he’s absolutely fucking crazy to think those dumbass thugs had enough fortitude to have this broadcasted to the entire <em>nation</em>. Those had been video messages sent only to Michael for leverage, there’s no way anyone else could’ve seen them. The footage on the TV is about to prove your point. They’re only showing repetitive loops of the video of Jeno parroting out that statement, the statement you should’ve realized was talking about Elyxion.</p><p class="p1">But you blink, and the screen is quickly swapped out for something far, far worse.</p><p class="p1">Instead of a proud Jeno, you’re bombarded with an image of the two of you huddled together. The footage is set at an angle, from where the camera had been dropped on the floor at the time, and whatever network this is has taken the liberty to blur out the carnage of his torso. But that’s all you need to confirm that everybody had indeed seen those moments, heard that final conversation, in their full, awful, devastating glory. If they’re still out there, your <em>parents</em> have seen it, too.</p><p class="p1">You should’ve seen this coming earlier, when Mrs. Na had freaked out in the way she had. But you’d naively assumed she’d just heard that the thugs had died and done her own extrapolating.</p><p class="p1">“That, you saw all of that?” you mumble, in complete denial of the obvious truth.</p><p class="p1">It’s only one word, but Jaehyun’s voice breaks over it completely, “Yes.”</p><p class="p1">The nausea finally clutches you in its firm grasp and you go stumbling back to the street, vomiting acidic bile all over the pavement. You heave and heave again, stomach trying to expel itself with the force of your regurgitation, maybe even trying to push your heart right out of your chest, but nothing comes out. Nothing but the saltiest, bitterest tears, that drip down your nose and stain your tongue.</p><p class="p1">You stay squatted down by the road, roaring rush of blood in your ears conjuring up the vertigo, sure you’ll faint right onto the sidewalk if you attempt to stand up. Jeno had no moment of privacy in his death, his final moments are now public record, they had been a national spectacle. A warm hand presses itself to the back of your head and a coat is draped over your shoulders, but the tears keep coming, you’re convinced you’re going to cry forever. </p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun Jung, what are you doing?!” His father’s panicked yell comes echoing down the block as both he and Michael come chasing after the group of you, legion of both Neozone and Pandora guards trailing behind them.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun helps you up from the sidewalk, with Yuta darting in to help by holding your other arm, then addresses his father, unapologetic, “She just bolted, I had to run after her.”</p><p class="p1">“Michael, you should get her under control,” Jaehyun’s father chastises Mark’s, like you’re some kind of wild pet he has.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck off, Jefferson, seriously,” the Vice Premier curses out the Regent in defense of you, then stalks over and pulls you out of his son’s grasp before he can harm you with any more ill-intended words.</p><p class="p1">Winwin has the car already waiting, and Mr. Lee does not let go of you, sitting with you in the backseat, your frame tucked into him the entire drive up to the hill.You feel terrible, that he’s having to look out for you like this. He should be back with Mark, properly paying respects to his son, not personally escorting deranged you back to your house. But you also feel immense gratitude to him. Your first thought upon being rescued by the Special Forces was how much you wanted a hug from your father, and this is more than enough for you.</p><p class="p1">As soon as you’re alone and back in your home, your haunted, beautiful, comforting, melancholy home, you go straight to the couch by the window and sit. And you stare at the stellaria, still blooming - even in the winter, even under the crisp snowfall - the entire night.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You were used to having guards at your home, whether it be one of your friends or the night guard from the outpost downtown, but something about the booming knock on your door in the morning unnerves you. Especially when the open door gives way to audible chaos from the outside of your space.</p><p class="p1">“Sir, please do your job and control them. Get them to leave immediately,” an authoritative command barks out, before Michael’s tone softens into concern, “Y/n? Y/n, did you sit out here all night?”</p><p class="p1">You dumbly glance down at yourself, you’re still in the same linen clothes, one male jacket draped around your shoulders. You can’t even pinpoint the moment that the sun had started to come up to signify morning. “I don’t know, I think so?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, sweetheart,” he lets out a pained sigh, coming right over to where you’re still perched on the couch. You leap out of the way before he can reach out to hug you, because he shouldn’t be comforting you. It should be the other way around, you’re the one who should comfort him. Him, the man who lost his son, his son who you couldn’t save.</p><p class="p1">Like clockwork, the tears brew in your eyes, “I’m so, so sorry—,”</p><p class="p1">“No, don’t,” he holds up his hand but doesn’t try to touch you, only trying to quell your bubbling anxiety. “There’ll be a day when we can talk about this, but it’s not right now. I actually came up here to discuss something different.”</p><p class="p1">A conversation not about Jeno you can handle, so you manage to lower yourself back down on the couch, and nod tentatively. “Okay.”</p><p class="p1">He sits down on a cushion as far away from you as possible, then lets it rip, “Mark and I will be moving to live in a house in Pandora today.”</p><p class="p1">“What? Why?” You want to pinch at your palm, to confirm that you’re really there and hearing this, but you’re blocked by the shell of your cast. Your index finger starts to tap out a beat on the material, echoing the rise of your heart rate.</p><p class="p1">“After all that’s transpired, the Premier requested we do so in order to give us full security options. As much as I love the city, I would have to agree with him. The Special Forces can look over us better if we’re there and not here, and there will be no commute to exacerbate our danger.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay,” you accept, without protest.</p><p class="p1">You didn’t expect this, the crushing and abject relief coming at the news that he and his family will be leaving. But it does makes sense. Your heart prefers the scenario where you do not have to cross paths with Jeno’s father and sibling on the regular. With them gone, you could attempt to stuff this away into a tiny, tiny corner of your being and cling to the naive hope that there’ll come a day when you won’t think of it again.</p><p class="p1">“You’re a part of this family, the invitation is extended to you as well,” Michael offers in a quiet voice, not trying to stress the situation out further. “I would have told you earlier, but Dr. Choi did not think it would be good to provoke you.”</p><p class="p1">“No, I can’t leave here…” you murmur, glancing back out the window, the froth of snow not deep enough to fully conceal the small blooms. “I can’t. The flowers, the flowers he loved, I can’t leave them. I can’t leave.” The last time he'd been at your house, you'd sat right there against the railing of your deck and he'd put a bunch of those tiny white flowers in your hair. You can still feel the sun on your face, his small hands brushing against your ear.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, maybe you should think, the train doesn’t leave for a few more hours…”</p><p class="p1">“No, no,” you shake your head with firm disapproval, at a pace that sends your neck into a frenzy of aches. “No.”</p><p class="p1">Michael’s mouth twitches with sadness, but he does not ask again, only concedes, “If that’s what you really want.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s what I really want,” you affirm.</p><p class="p1">Even him being here right now is too much. He’d bought you this house, without a care, his sons in tow. This was supposed to be a place where you’d all grow old together.</p><p class="p1">“The Lt. General requested his son not move away from their family, so I intend to transfer Mr. Nakamoto to your household. The Neozone guards will take over your protection, and Mr. Dong also offered to remain behind at your service. Dr. Choi and I will make arrangements for your medical team to treat you privately, so you do not have to go to a public hospital. That includes a counselor, should you choose to see one. Everything will be properly prepared for you.”</p><p class="p1">Michael’s detailed plans providing for your care is another stark reminder of how you don’t deserve his kindness. There should be no need for him to be getting you a <em>counselor</em>. You have half a mind to tell him to pick a random guard, not Yuta. Seeing Yuta every day might be more emotional turmoil than you can handle. But you can't be selfish. You have no place to be picky about what he’s setting up on your behalf.</p><p class="p1">You press your lips together in a thin line and accept with politeness, “Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">Satisfied that you’ll at least be watched over in his absence, Michael gets up from your couch and begins his slow walk out of your home. He is halfway to your front door when he suddenly whirls back to you, a parent begging his defiant child, “You really can’t come to Pandora with us? We can heal togeth—,”</p><p class="p1">“No.”</p><p class="p1">There is nothing you can do together anymore. And he knows that.</p><p class="p1">It’s like your solitary word is his own personal death blow. He can’t hide his subtle wince, but true to the end, he defers to what you want, “I understand. Be well, y/n. And keep in touch.”</p><p class="p1">You nod in tacit agreement, but you know this is it, this is the last time you’ll be speaking for a while, perhaps forever. His fingers twitch at his side, tempted into dousing you in one final, fatherly hug, but you stiffen so severely he decides at the last second not to.</p><p class="p1">“My son’s outside,” he murmurs over his shoulder as he’s about to leave, fingers wiping away at his slick lower eyelids. “I’ll call him in and give you a moment alone before we go.”</p><p class="p1">There goes your de facto father, stepping through the threshold of your home, and in comes his son. Here you are, about to be face to face with the lone, remaining Lee boy for the very first time. Of course Michael had looked sad, wrinkles and sleepless nights evident all over his face. But Mark’s face is a black hole’s worth worse, desolation and ruin hefted through each arc of his features, usually bright blonde hair dull and barren.</p><p class="p1">“Mark,” you whisper, trying to get him to look up from the spot on the floor he’s staring at.</p><p class="p1">You’d shied away from his father’s touch, but you’re aching to embrace your best friend. He’s been noticeably absent from recent recollection, not turning up to the hospital with his father, not speaking to you at the remembrance, not running after you when you'd escaped into the snow. You don’t blame him for that or expect anything more, but the desire to comfort him is unavoidable.</p><p class="p1">“Why didn’t you yell for help?” He asks out of the blue, not at all what you were prepared for, especially when combined with the severe glare he levels you with.</p><p class="p1">You can’t remember if you yelled or not, the memories are a hazardous mishmash of screams ripped so deeply from your throat they’re like cleaving out a part of your soul. You know for sure Jeno had screamed when they got him, that’s what alerted you to it in the first place. But why does Mark want to know about you specifically?</p><p class="p1">“I’m not sure.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re not sure,” he repeats, obviously not trusting your answer.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t remember,” you correct yourself to the full truth, hoping that will be enough for him.</p><p class="p1">It isn’t. Mark takes another step in towards you, teeth grinding with tension, fingers twitching as he tries to prevent his hands from balling up into fists. “Why did you let him go on camera all those times?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">He runs a shaky hand through his hair, mouth spewing awful sentences laced with his grief, uncontrollable, unstoppable, “Why did you let them kill him, I don’t understand, you should’ve tried to save him, they said he hadn’t been dead for that long when they found you.”</p><p class="p1">Your face creases with distress at his high-intensity interrogation of you, breaking down into the only thing you can whimper out, “I don’t know! I don’t know!”</p><p class="p1">You’d watched every last breath that fluttered through the boy’s chest, imprinting them one after one into your memory. You can’t even recall how much time passed between the last one you remember and the Pandora soldiers breaking down the door of the enclosure, hidden behind a false wall in the Pandora Building’s dome.</p><p class="p1">“I told you this was because of Elyxion. I told you, I literally said it with this mouth, <em>who else could it be</em>,<em>” </em>Mark spouts, angrily pointing to his own lips, then thrusting his finger in your direction. “And you, <em>my own best friend</em>, didn’t believe me. Now this is happening to me again.”</p><p class="p1">He blames you. He blames you for all of it.</p><p class="p1">But beyond finding out that your own best friend attributes his brother’s death to your supposed ignorance, you’re arrested in place by the curious phrasing he’d used at the end of his frustrated, impassioned accusation. Your words grind out with agony as you question him, “Again? What do you mean again, Mark?" He looks away, but that only heightens your anxiety, "Tell me. Tell me what you’re trying to say, I don’t get it, I don’t.”</p><p class="p1">He opens his mouth, then pointedly closes it with a gruff, “Never mind.”</p><p class="p1">“Tell me,” you rush over, to try and grab at his shoulder and shake some sense into him, but he side-steps you angrily.</p><p class="p1">“I said never mind!”</p><p class="p1">“Mark!”</p><p class="p1">It explodes out of him with laborious extortion, an abominable revelation, “My mom was taken in the Night of Darkness!”</p><p class="p1">You have to put an arm on the couch to keep yourself from toppling over. “Mark.”</p><p class="p1">His face folds up in anguish, teeth biting at the crest of his index finger’s first knuckle to keep himself from spilling the story. But a diamond tear tracks down from the inner corner of his eyelid, and with it comes the awful tale, “She woke me up for school every day at seven fifteen, wouldn’t let Yunho or Heechul do it, even if she was sick. One morning when I was eleven, I woke up and my alarm clock said seven thirty five, and I just knew. I ran down the hall to their room, still in my pajamas, and there Dad was with the Neozone guards, news broadcast already blasting.”</p><p class="p1">This is a puzzle that should never have been solved. You’d spent most of the past months trying to interpret Mark’s simmering anger for the people of Elyxion, a sentiment that his father did not share, and had continually come up stumped for an answer. But never did you think your fantastical, wild imagination could lead you onto this horrendous path.</p><p class="p1">“It’s been the biggest kept secret in the city. Besides the guards who investigated and the members of our household, the guys are the only people who know. Not even their parents. Everyone thinks she just left us. I know for a fact Dad never said anything to you, because he never wanted anyone to suffer on our behalf.”</p><p class="p1">That untangles all the ambiguity that had surrounded the woman since your first encounter with her memory. Pinpoints the way Mark and his father had gotten so emotional when you’d sewn them their first tulip jackets, the way she was rarely, if ever brought up. Why Jaehyun had been so concerned about Mark after that news report mentioning the twelve year anniversary of that horrific day.But Mark shouldn’t have kept this in. You’re out in the world without your parents as well, you could’ve leaned on each other in support.</p><p class="p1">“It was the worst day of my life. The worst day of my life that I had to relive, when I got the call that J—,” he catches himself on his brother’s name, another tear cascading down his cheek, “that <em>he</em> didn’t show up to the Na’s. Now I don’t have a mother, or a brother.”</p><p class="p1">If the long-standing rumors are true, and Elyxion had perpetrated the Night of Darkness, this would make the second family member seized out of Mark’s life by citizens of the other region. First, his mother, taken in the dead of the night, then his brother, snatched away in the strains of the early morning. Again. This happened to him <em>again</em>. The word <em>again</em> wouldn't apply now if you had yelled for help, if you'd kept Jeno off camera, if you'd managed to kill the thugs first. Mark would still have a brother if you had listened to his warning about Elyxion, a warning that came from the already mourning depths of his heart.</p><p class="p1">Mark drives the point home with his vitriolic yet honest final words to you, “So yeah, you fucking bitch. Again.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t cry until the door slams behind him, the booming, awful finale to your relationship.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The salty teardrops dashing across your arm are too similar to the dots of blood Jeno’s fingers had left on the skin there, perpetuating the endless loop of silent weeping you’ve been sat in for the entire week.</p><p class="p1">You’re on the couch in the same position, curled up by the wall of window, but even being deep inside your house does not muffle the curious hum of Neozone citizens who have trekked up here to catch a glimpse of you.At first it had only been a few nosy interlopers, enough for your guard to scare them away with empty threats. But with each day that passes, the crowd grows, and so is their determination to dig into you.</p><p class="p1">There’s a particularly loud burst of noise from outside and your hands fly to your ears to try and block it out, to no avail. “Make it stop, please,” you moan, scrunching your eyes shut, too.</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s gentle hand brushes across your shoulder, his voice beseeching you for help, “Please tell me what you want me to do, ma’am.”</p><p class="p1">“I can hear them,” you bluster, unable to think of anything else. “I can hear them!”</p><p class="p1">The creak of your door lets in a bubble of hullabaloo that sends you burying your face into the cushions of your furniture. Yuta’s hand remains on your shoulder from his spot behind you, and then you hear his quiet voice speaking to someone else, “Thanks for coming, she’s been like this since they’ve shown up.”</p><p class="p1">“I know, I saw that her light was on all night. Get them out of here, dude. Whatever it takes. I’ve got it from there.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, for sure.”</p><p class="p1">The warmth dissipates from your shoulder as Yuta goes off to follow the instructions of whoever’s shown up. It’s replaced by absolutely blazing heat, as a larger palm comes to grip at your torso tenderly, pulling you out of your ball of misery with a firm, yet kind, “Come here, let’s go.”</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun?” you mumble when you peek out through the curtain of your haphazard ponytail to see your neighbor there. He’s bundled all the way up in a jacket and scarf, his curly bangs peeking out from under his beanie. You try to pull yourself out of his grasp, but his hands are both gentle and firm around you, fluttering around your ribcage as he guides you over to the door. He halts you before you can open it, pressing himself in closely to you so he can hear through the wood.</p><p class="p1">“The Regent has publicly asked citizens to stop coming up here to investigate the mistress!” Yuta’s unyielding voice blisters into the assembled throng of people, visible through the small sliver of uncovered window.</p><p class="p1">“We just want to know who she was talking about!” A random from the crowd shouts back, over the new hum of the electricity surrounding your plaza. “Can’t you let us see her?”</p><p class="p1">“No! That’s what the electric fence means!” Yuta commands, before he halts the voltage for barely long enough to slip through the gate and begin corralling the stalkers away from your entryway. “Let’s go, let’s go.”</p><p class="p1">As soon as the last head has disappeared down the bend of the road, Jaehyun throws open your door and shoves you lightly out of your house, carefully taking your wrist again as he leads you past the frozen fountain and over to his house. Before he even takes off his shoes and coat, he’s wrapping you up in the fuzzy blanket that’s always over the back of his couch, and sitting you down in the large recliner you usually perch in.</p><p class="p1">Your tongue is glaciated and stuttering, trying to find what you want to ask him and failing, finally settling on, “Stop, stop, what is going on here?!”</p><p class="p1">“It’s Sunday, there’s a baseball game on today,” he breezes out as he shakes the snow out of his bangs, then walks over to his fridge. He rummages around through clinking bottles, and pulls out a pair of the requisite IPAs you always drink when you hang out like this. He puts the bottles down to shrug off his coat and hat, leaving him in his college sweater with his hair a mess. He flops down on the couch and hands a beer over in your direction.</p><p class="p1">It feels so wholly bizarre to take the frosted glass from him that your tongue slips, “Jaehyun, what the fuck are you on about?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m just cracking open a beer and watching baseball with my neighbor.” He shrugs without a care and sinks back onto the pillow, his typical lounging spot, before tossing your words back at you, “What the fuck are you on about?”</p><p class="p1">His rhetorical question has provided no revelations towards his motivation of bringing you over here. But the familiar peach-y, yeast-y smell of the alcohol is enough of a callback to the days of before, that you decide not to protest for the time being. He registers that silence as consent to carry on, so he turns on the TV and you’re immediately hit with the image of Taeil Moon trotting out to the mound of the indoor stadium.</p><p class="p1">You can’t cry like an idiot in front of Jaehyun, that’s the one thing you won’t allow yourself to do. So you pinch at the skin of your exposed wrist as a substitute for your broken palm, brutalizing the skin there. It’s like nothing’s changed, Taeil is still playing baseball, still primed for another all-star season, but now he’s living in a world where he has one less fan. One less future teammate.</p><p class="p1">He goes through his signature warmup, you and Jaehyun watching the screen in silence. But when Taeil turns his head to signal to his first baseman, a soft gasp escapes you at what you see on the side of his jersey sleeve. It’s barely noticeable, elegant and understated stitching, but it’s there — a small, black circle filled with the characters JL and a familiar jersey number, 13. The Neozone Bats are wearing commemorative patches for Jeno.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun clears his throat, reluctant to break your concentration, faintly divulging, “I saw an article, they found out from the news reports that he was a huge fan. They’re going to wear those patches all season.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh.”</p><p class="p1">“I can turn it off, if you want.”</p><p class="p1">“Whatever,” you whisper, unable to look up from peeling the label of your beer incessantly. The Neozone Bats are wearing commemorative patches for Jeno, how fucked up is that. His own favorite team will have a jersey with his name and number on it, not because he has fulfilled his life long dream of playing for them, but because he's <em>dead.</em></p><p class="p1">“Want to put Baekhyun on and make cookies instead?”</p><p class="p1">You think you might throw up your nonexistent stomach contents again if one note of the beautiful singer’s voice crosses your ears. His songs that were once lullabies could only sow nightmares for you from here on out. You might have to write the celebrity a personal apology, because you probably won’t ever be able to listen to him from here on out.</p><p class="p1">“No! No,” you exclaim as Jaehyun attempts to get up, then compose yourself, “Leave the game on. You can do whatever you want. I’ll sit here, drink my beer, and then go home.”</p><p class="p1">He plops himself back down, taking a long sip out of his own beer, and you figure it’s okay for you to do so too, at least one drink. You don’t feel like it’s acceptable to get drunk now, to get to the point where you’ll lose track of your mind in intoxication. You can’t fathom waking up sober and having to remember it all at once, so better to never forget.</p><p class="p1">You take a tiny sip, fruity froth tangy against your tongue, and then you glance over to where he’s watching the game with deep interest. It’s Sunday, surely he has more pressing things to do than be here. You press him, “Jaehyun. You do not have to sit here with me.”</p><p class="p1">Your words summon the ring of his doorbell, and he sets his beer down with a, “Be right back,” but no other acceptance of your offer. Your attention is on the screen, on Neozone’s first at-bat, so you vaguely register him opening the door. You don't even really hear his hushed greeting of the visitor.</p><p class="p1">But then there’s the smack of a pair of lips, followed by a wheedling, “Baby, are you going to let me in?” and all of your attention is sucked away from the game.</p><p class="p1">What in the hell?</p><p class="p1">“No, I can’t,” Jaehyun says lowly. “I have something going on right now.”</p><p class="p1">You blatantly strain to look over the couch, to see who’s there at Jaehyun’s door, kissing him and calling him <em>baby</em>, but his frame has blocked your view completely. You’ve been away for three weeks, and suddenly Jaehyun has a girlfriend. You know for a fact he’s not going to tell you about this, will let you ‘find out’ naturally, when he thinks you’re stable enough to comprehend the information. So, it’s not like nothing’s changed. Apparently everything has changed.</p><p class="p1">“But we were supposed to go on a date tonight!”</p><p class="p1">“Some other time, okay? Not now.”</p><p class="p1">The click of the lock in the door ticks in your ears, and your eyes dart to the window to unabashedly snoop at the identity of his newfound companion. The woman is mummified in her winter gear, face concealed from a distance, but the car is unmistakeable. The rose gold Audi, making a loop around your plaza to exit through the electric fence the driver somehow knows the code to, belongs to Mimi.</p><p class="p1"><em>Finally</em>, you think with a grumble, but you’re certainly not over the moon about it. You’re appropriately happy for your neighbor, that he’s managed to end up with the girl he seemed destined for for so long. But what about the one who can’t? It’s inexcusable that you can be sat here with a beer, that Jaehyun can have a girlfriend, when Jeno won’t ever be able to do either of those things.</p><p class="p1">It’d been foolish of you to think that watching a game of baseball, having one beer with an old friend, would somehow turn back the hands of time. You’re never going to get back to that point, never will really be able to be friends with him in that way again. It will be the same with the other men you’ve grown up with. There are too many lines written in your story to erase, ones that will inspire a chest’s worth of pain upon each sequential re-read.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun returns back to his spot on the couch, unaware of the bitterness coursing through you, and makes a huge mistake when he tentatively asks, “So, how are you doing?”</p><p class="p1">All pretenses of burgeoning normalcy are lost, so you choose to bite out a, “Fine,” instead of answering him honestly. Which is what you might’ve done if he’d ignored the door, if you’d never gone out of your way to snoop just now.</p><p class="p1">“That’s all I get?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes.”</p><p class="p1">He lies down across the seat cushions on his stomach so his chin is propped on the arm of the couch. He tosses his dimpled, teasing grin right in your proximity, and prods, “Come on, I need to know these things. I’m your friend.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun still doesn’t realize you’re actually displeased with him bringing you here, that you’re only staying here to not come off rude. How can you get him to understand that without being completely in his face about it? You cross your arms and stare straight at the TV when you repeat, “I said I’m fine.”</p><p class="p1">Apparently that’s how, because he senses your shortness right away. The amber of his eyes liquify into unadulterated worry, and you’re not fast enough to pull your body away from him. You’re forced to sit there as he reaches for your casted hand, his forlorn confession erupting in a typhoon of terrible candor,“Y/n, you don’t understand, I was so scared you weren’t going to come back—,”</p><p class="p1">“Just don’t, okay? Just don’t,” you cut him off harshly, eyes watering but tears staying put. Because that’s your one promise to yourself, that you won’t cry like an idiot in front of Jaehyun from now on. “I’m fine and I’m here. That’s all.”</p><p class="p1">Lies, lies. It’s all fucking lies.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u for reading. thank u for ur responses to the previous chapter as well. xo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. paeonia lactiflora</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“It’s just the Vice Premier,” you muse nonchalantly as you watch the town scenery go by, not wanting to give anything away. He’s just another man, he’s just another esteemed town visitor. The train station is just another place you’re going.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>there's a slight time jump in this chapter! apologies in advance but this fic would be like 500k if i wrote everything. i may do deleted scenes, we'll see</p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Ma’am, the train will be arriving in half an hour.”</p><p class="p1">Though you faintly register the string of words creeping into your consciousness, you’re too entranced by the view of the river to respond. Your eyes soak in the rush of wind causing the surface to ripple with waves, how that gale meanders its way up the hill to cuddle the blanket of ever-present tiny white flowers in your backyard. If you were to open the window, would the breeze be as tender with you as it is with the blossoms, to blow you back and forth with the breath of life you so desperately need?</p><p class="p1">“Ma’am?”</p><p class="p1">“Huh?”</p><p class="p1">You finally turn at the sharp address, and there your bodyguard is, standing at attention at the periphery of your living room like he always does. The fact that he’s actually said something means that you’ve been lingering for a tad too long.</p><p class="p1">Yuta checks his watch, then reminds you, “We need to leave now if we’re going to make it in time.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, you’re right about that,” you mutedly agree once you’ve eyed the sun sitting high in the sky. There’s no avoiding this now.</p><p class="p1">“You are required to attend to promote the prestige of our metropolis,” he parrots out the official words, as is part of his job description. How many more times would your own sentence be used by the Regent to twist your arm?</p><p class="p1">Spurred into action, you step away from the window, grabbing your cashmere cowl as you start to head for the door. When you're close enough for him to hear, you add a muted, “Yes, I’m aware of my duties, Yuta.”</p><p class="p1">“Sorry,” he offers, chiseled face contrite as he passes you your handbag. “You know what the regulations are.”</p><p class="p1">Unfortunately, you do, in minute and excruciating detail. <em>Ms. y/l/n must not venture into public unaccompanied. Ms. y/l/n must be on hand to receive all dignitaries visiting Neozone. Ms. y/l/n cannot be tardy for any official events. </em>But it’s not Yuta's fault his livelihood depends on enforcing them. Just like it’s not your fault that you still feel constrained by them.</p><p class="p1">“It’s fine.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s bottom lip flickers in that way it always does when he feels bad, “I really am sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay, don’t worry,” you reassure him as you place your fingers into his offered elbow. “Let’s go before you get a scolding on my behalf.”</p><p class="p1">Winwin already has the car waiting in the driveway for you, and once you and Yuta are settled inside, you’re off to join the crowd that’s surely already gathered by the downtown train station. Even though you’d felt the crisp winter air pricking at you in the seconds you were outside, the fever that’s beginning to creep into you is unbearable, every bead of sweat dotting at your brow is keenly felt on your skin.</p><p class="p1">The significance of the day is not lost on you, though it is yet to be seen whether it is otherwise positive. There are too many unknown variables for you to make a determination at this moment, especially considering your personal feelings on the matter. Your fingers fiddle with the zip on your bag, undoing it a quarter of an inch, then zipping it back shut, open and shut, open and shut, some kind of sick representation of the way your feelings are pulsing right now.</p><p class="p1">“Nervous?” Yuta lightly questions the minute he picks up on your tick.</p><p class="p1">“It’s just the Vice Premier,” you muse nonchalantly as you watch the town scenery go by, not wanting to give anything away. He’s just another man, he’s just another esteemed town visitor. The train station is just another place you’re going. You glance over when Yuta doesn’t comment again, and find him staring at you with untainted melancholy dripping from his eyes. You sigh, “Don’t give me that look.”</p><p class="p1">“What look?” He feigns innocence, quickly blinking it away, and Winwin snickers when he catches it in the rear view mirror.</p><p class="p1">You’ve seen him wear this face too many times than is good for your mental health and you dig it into him, “The <em>you know what </em>happened to <em>you know who</em> look.”</p><p class="p1">He grimaces, and mutters a low, “Sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“Besides. It’s not just the Vice Premier,” you divulge in such a breezy tone, as if you’re sure of the unsure, confident that your request will be coming true.</p><p class="p1">Both Winwin and Yuta’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “Oh?”</p><p class="p1">You fight to control your lips from twisting into a smile, and you tap your pinky on Yuta’s as the vehicle rolls to a stop by a fenced off area, “Don’t tell on me. It’s a surprise.”</p><p class="p1">You leave him to contemplate the ambiguity of your words as the guard opens the door for you, offering you a hand to escort you up to the dais that has been erected to receive the high profile guests. That fever from before suddenly explodes into your head when you see the mass of bodies that have come for the reception. This must be all of Neozone here, waiting for the train to be brought into the station.</p><p class="p1">“You’re late.”</p><p class="p1">You flinch in the middle of your thought that it’d been lucky you’d come at this hour, so that sneaking into position at the last moment wouldn’t be so obvious, and angle your head to bow your head in apology to Regent Jung. Even from behind the thick glasses he wears, the disdain in his gaze is palpable, causing you to lower your head even further.</p><p class="p1">“Had to go through the rules and regulations, my apologies, sir,” you mumble, not having any sort of capacity to meet his eye. It’s been years and you still don’t think you’ve seen any other expression of his directed your way other than disdain, and it is upsetting every time.</p><p class="p1">The groan of the metal locomotive beginning to slide into the station rings out, and the throng of people starts to cheer, waving their hands at the windows on the train with excitement. The escalation in volume echoes the escalation of your heartbeat, and pretty soon the thudding in your ears is the only thing you can hear. The whistle of steam from the engine cause you to twitch once, but you’ve had enough practice in controlling your triggers that you conceal it with a flip of your ponytail.</p><p class="p1">“Over here, please,” Johnny’s deep tone breaks through it all as he authoritatively directs your positioning on the stand. He firmly grasps your arm and drags you past his employer, other hand coming to rest in the small of your back as he whispers, “Hey, y/n,” as soon as you’re out of the Regent’s earshot.</p><p class="p1">“Hi, John,” you whisper back as you brush your fingers over his and allow him to take you where you’ve been assigned to stand.</p><p class="p1">But perhaps you should’ve put up more of a fight, because the moment Johnny moves out of the way, you see exactly who he’s deposited you by. You make a big show of fixing your black cowl, then clasping your hands behind your back and lifting your head to survey the crowd instead of greeting the man who’s beside you. In doing so, you force him to speak first.</p><p class="p1">“Where were you last night?” Jaehyun’s polite smile stays plastered on as his mouth barely moves, and he does nothing else but fix the crooked collar of his thick grey jacket.</p><p class="p1">“What are you doing up here?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> y</span>ou counter, because at the receiving line of the requisite formal events, it’s usually only Regent Jung, General Suh, a few other high ranking officials, and you. You know, to promote the prestige of the metropolis. To send a not so subtle message to Elyxion that you’re still standing strong.</p><p class="p1">“I have to be,” his eyes flick back to the center of the stage. You notice that Mrs. Jung is up here too, and Mimi is there to Jaehyun’s left, back turned as she smiles and waves to the bystanders. They’re really going all out for this, you suppose.</p><p class="p1">You think the conversation’s dead, but Jaehyun just has to ask it, “Are you okay?”</p><p class="p1">You drill your gaze right into the Pandora soldiers exiting the train, lining the pathway to provide a safe exit for those inside, and sew your mouth firmly shut. You will not react, you will not react, you will not react.</p><p class="p1">“The light in your room stayed on all night again.”</p><p class="p1">Your right thumb and forefinger pinch right through the swell of flesh of your stiff left palm out of habit, and your heartbeat may as well be a symphony played at nothing less than a prestissimo. You hazard a risky glance back over to him, and Jaehyun’s look is a billion times worse than Yuta’s <em>you know what happened to you know who</em> look. It’s a <em>why can’t I tell what you’re hiding</em> look, narrowed eyes and a tentative mouth, and a nervous hand brushing through his honey brown hair.</p><p class="p1">“Why—,” you start to breathe out, but you’re interrupted before you can even form a coherent response.</p><p class="p1">“Quiet!” Regent Jung hisses, harsh and unforgiving, and you and Jaehyun immediately fall silent.</p><p class="p1">You experience a crippling rush of warring emotion as you contemplate Jaehyun’s question, then immediately look up to see the Vice Premier ascending the stairs to where you’re standing. Your first instinct is to cower, to stumble back in surprise at seeing him this close once again, to see that he looks relatively unchanged. But you spin steel right into your legs, holding you firmly in your upright, regal position.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, Jefferson,” VP Lee’s voice is as warm as ever as he greets the Regent with a handshake that evolves into an embrace, their previous ill will dissipating over time. “Thank you for the lovely reception.”</p><p class="p1">Regent Jung bows deeply to the other man in a kowtowing show of respect. “Vice Premier Lee, welcome. I hope your trip was well.”</p><p class="p1">VP Lee lets out a good natured laugh, and though it quickly comes and goes, it is hefted through with nostalgia. “Come on, is it so tough for you to call me Michael again? It really hasn’t been that long since I left.”</p><p class="p1">The Regent begins to respond, but VP Lee does a very blatant double take in your direction upon stepping back from the center of the dais. You’d been hidden away between Jaehyun in his fancy coat and Yuta and Johnny in their formal uniforms, and thus hard to spot from the VP’s previous angle. But from where he’s standing now, he can see all of you.</p><p class="p1">And if you thought Yuta’s look was bad, and Jaehyun’s worse, Vice Premier Lee’s look is the worst of them all, because it is spun out of nothing but pure relief. The crack in his voice is, too, “Y/n.”</p><p class="p1">“Vice Premier,” you can’t help the gasping in your tone, yet you hold out your hand only in politeness, head inclined in matching deference.</p><p class="p1">He forgoes the handshake to envelop you into a hug, one that he was able to resist upon his departure but cannot now, squeezing the saltiness right into your eyes. “It is lovely to see you.”</p><p class="p1">“You too, sir,” you manage to choke out in some kind of seeming, proper manner. But from over his shoulder, you spot a figure emerging from the train exit. Your mouth goes brutally dry as you step away from him, entranced, “Excuse me.”</p><p class="p1">The first few steps you take are slow, tentative, like you can’t believe what you’re seeing, but as soon as you catch the flash of blonde hair, you’re tearing down the wooden staircase and up the lined pathway. It’s not hard to miss the way the whispers immediately shoot into the air from the crowd, the <em>What is she doing?</em>s and the <em>Where is she going?</em>s, but you can’t care, you can’t. Because it has been three hundred and eighty four days, each day ticked out in your nerve endings.</p><p class="p1">You’re breathless by the time you finish your short run, and you nearly miss the quiet, “Hey, bee,” that spills from Mark’s mouth.</p><p class="p1">You’re so taken aback that he’s chosen to address you by your-long forgotten nickname, it takes you a full fifteen seconds before you can recall the other half of the greeting, “Hi, bumble.”</p><p class="p1">Much like his father, Mark is unchanged by time, still as handsome as ever, buttery blonde hair cascading over his forehead in the breeze, jaw even sharper in its cut. You know all of this, you've seen him on broadcasts and in newspapers galore in your year apart, each time crushing yourself into indifferent non-reaction. But the most important thing about his reappearance is that he does not wear the same look of pity everyone else does. Whether his expression is still borne out of hatred or it’s evolved into neutral derision, you don’t know, but it’s a welcome change of pace. You crush yourself into his arms before he can say otherwise, fingers grasping at the cotton of his overcoat to ensure he’s physically still there, as if he’s going to be snatched away at any second.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you for coming,” you whisper into his shoulder, words muffled by the fabric but sentiment still the same.</p><p class="p1">“Well, you did write me. How could I say no?” he points out with a subtle jut of his chin towards you. You can’t tell if he’s meant it in a lighthearted way, or in a manner implying manipulation, especially considering how tear-stained the piece of paper had become before you’d mailed it.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Dear bumble,</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>I didn’t put my name on the envelope because I was afraid of what you’ll do when you see that it’s from me…</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">Mark shifts so you can see the two young men waiting behind him, and starts to introduce them, “This is Ten, my new bodyguard, and this is my friend—,”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungsoo,” you gasp as you recognize the one to Ten's left.</p><p class="p1">Before you know it, you’re clutching at the man, a man you’ve never hugged before. A man you’ve never seen cleaned up like this, with elegantly long hair and in a neatly pressed black suit, the scar traversing his eyebrow somehow miraculously disappeared. Even after the embrace has come to a close, Kyungsoo keeps a hold on you, the feeling of your hand on your arm no different from the times he’d held you back, equal parts comforting and terrifying.</p><p class="p1">“You two know each other?” Mark wonders out loud as he glances between you and Kyungsoo, and how familiar you seem with each other.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” is all you can manage, and then you put a tentative hand on Mark’s arm. “Hold on, though. There’s someone who should see you first.”</p><p class="p1">Then you step aside, your body no longer concealing his, and let the scene unfold. Though you’re standing several feet away, you are able to pick out every minuscule way Jaehyun’s face blows apart in surprise, the garland of happy shock that rings out when he exclaims, “Marco?!”</p><p class="p1">From beside you, there’s a subdued, “Jae?” from Mark.</p><p class="p1">“You should go up there,” you murmur, so only he can hear. “He’s missed you.”</p><p class="p1">That is all Mark needs to take off in a sprint, racing up the pathway and scrambling up the stairs to throw himself into Jaehyun’s arms. The two men hug and hug, and you can hear their amazed, disbelieving laughter loud and clear. Yuta barrels his way forward next to embrace Mark, then Johnny, and the four of them hold each other in a public display of brotherhood. It’s only then that you allow the cavern of your chest to flood with some modicum of relief, that your plan had managed to work despite your doubts. </p><p class="p1">“I didn’t think I was going to see you for some time,” Kyungsoo ventures faintly, after Ten’s gone up to the platform to join his companion, leaving the two of you alone.</p><p class="p1">“Me neither,” you concede, watching the group of young men continue to chatter away in happiness. “I didn’t know you were friends with Mark.”</p><p class="p1">“We weren’t before. But after,” Kyungsoo clarifies in a vague way that is explicit to you, he’d only met Mark after everything that happened last year. “This was a very last minute trip for me, though.”</p><p class="p1">“I know.”</p><p class="p1">“As in, he only decided he was coming last night.”</p><p class="p1">“<em>I know</em>. I got his response this morning.” You had never gotten a response to the letter you'd sent until you'd opened your weary eyes to the dregs of morning sun today. It’d come in the form of a curt text message, reading only <b>12:00</b>, the time the train was scheduled to arrive. And even then, you weren’t sure Mark was actually going to make the trip.</p><p class="p1">You can’t wrap your mind around how strange it is to be here with Kyungsoo like this, him in his luxurious suit and you in your polished high heels. Because all you can think of are the rips on your dress, a crimson stain on his ragged tee, labored breathing, the songs he would sing you to try and get you to fall asleep, a heavy weight on your arm.</p><p class="p1">There’s one specific story you’re thinking of now when you say, “Welcome back, by the way. It’s been like ten years, right?”</p><p class="p1">“More. Since high school,” Kyungsoo corrects as he glances out into the throng of people from his hometown, the feeling of unease radiating from him into you, especially when he then questions,“Why’d you ask Mark to come?”</p><p class="p1">Your palms go flush with clammy sweat at his pointed inquest, meaning Mark hadn’t actually told him the rest of the contents of the letter. You can’t explain it here, in this very public location, but it’s more like you can’t explain the truth ever. To him or to anyone, not even Mark. The letter had touched on too much raw reality to ever be discussed openly.</p><p class="p1">“That’s for me to know,” you coyly sidestep giving an answer, mostly saved by VP Lee, Regent Jung, the military officials, and their families descending from the platform to walk through the crowd. “I should go.”</p><p class="p1">This is your perfect avenue for a clandestine escape, and you waste no time setting about doing so, leaving Kyungsoo behind to make your way back to the fenced off exit. You’ve done your duty, you were present to receive Mark’s father, and that’s all you need to be here for. No need to make yourself feel any worse by lingering any longer.</p><p class="p1">You call for your escort from where he’s attempting to tag along with Johnny, “Yuta!”</p><p class="p1">“Ma’am,” he jogs over and greets you with a bow. “Where to?”</p><p class="p1">“Home.”</p><p class="p1">Though it is his duty to follow your instructions, he can’t help the disappointed frown that crosses his face. You know it’s due to the fact that he wants to stay here with his newly reunited friend group, and he confirms it with his question, “You’re not sticking around for the reception?”</p><p class="p1">“Orders were to show my face at the arrival, right?” You know that Regent Jung’s instructions had not said anything more than <em>Ms. y/l/n must be present to welcome Vice Premier Lee. </em>You’ve already landed the knockout punch to Yuta’s argument. “That means I can go home, they can always summon me back if needed.”</p><p class="p1">Your bodyguard lets a defeated head nod slip through as he concedes, “I’ll get the car, ma’am.”</p><p class="p1">As it turns out, the significance of the day is neither negative nor positive, the befuddling emotions of your time at the train station only an undetected sign of what is to come. And so it goes, on the entire ride back to your home, your fingers fiddle with the zip on your bag, undoing it a quarter of an inch, then zipping it back shut, open and shut, open and shut.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Later that night, there’s a quadruplet knock — the signal that Yuta’s letting himself inside — and then you hear his baritone through the crack in your door, “Ma’am? You have visitors.”</p><p class="p1">Your hands still on the page of the book you’d been turning. There’s no way Mark has come all the way up here, right? He wouldn't do that. You make a note to remind Yuta that visitors is simply too vague for you to emotionally prepare. You gulp, then call, “Send them in.”</p><p class="p1">But it’s not Mark, or even Mark with Kyungsoo. “Hello, Jaehyun. Mimi.”</p><p class="p1">They’re in matching maroon evening wear, Mimi’s hand grasping Jaehyun’s tightly as she marvels at the lofty ceilings of the place you live in. You forget that for as many times as Jaehyun’s been in your home, she’s never stopped by.</p><p class="p1">“Would you like some tea?” you offer, as gracious as an unexpected host can be.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun shakes his head, then clears his throat, “We can’t stay since we’re hosting dinner at Dad’s.” Right, it makes sense that Regent Jung would host the Vice Premier’s welcome celebration. He does have the second biggest mansion downtown.</p><p class="p1">“We’re,” Mimi starts, then corrects herself, “actually, <em>I’m</em> here to ask you something.”</p><p class="p1">“Sure.” The two of you aren’t exactly friends anymore, connected only through your tangential relationships with Jaehyun, so you’re not entirely certain of what she could have to say.</p><p class="p1">“Well, Jaehyun’s birthday is coming up really soon,” she’s babbling already, as bright and bubbly as ever, “and you know we haven’t had a celebration like this in a while so I’m having a gown made for the party because I need to look my best and all.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t help the bluntness of your next statement, “I’m not hearing a question." Because she’d gone on for a solid minute about parties and this and that and hadn’t actually made her intentions clear. You're not a mind reader.</p><p class="p1">Mimi sucks in a big breath, like this is the bravest thing she’s ever done, then asks, “Would you embroider my dress for me?”</p><p class="p1">It’s as if she’s funneled all the air out of your lungs into hers, the air rushing from your lips in a muted, “Oh.”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, that’s what you were going to ask?” Jaehyun coughs in surprise as his hand slips from his girlfriend’s. Then he lowers his voice in an attempt to shield you that you hear anyways, “You know she doesn’t do that anymore. Even if she did, she doesn’t take personal orders.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, it won’t be much,” Mimi argues back under her breath. “I just want the hem done and stuff.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not entirely sure how you’re still keeping track of their conversation, because the maroon in their outfits is spreading into your vision, the hue illuminating into the cheery red thread you’d used to form that smiling strawberry. It was only ever supposed to stay that bright, bright hue of red, it was never, ever, <em>ever</em> supposed to be stained with the dark crimson of drying blood.</p><p class="p1">“Come on, Mi, we should go,” Jaehyun’s hushed order arrows through you and your mouth finds the fortitude to make the words.</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay.”</p><p class="p1">Both of them gasp with incredulity, and you feel like doing the same at yourself. “What?”</p><p class="p1">“I mean,” you start, trying to think of a way to artfully get out of your own words betraying you, but you give up. “As long as you’re fine with my rusty skills. I haven’t sewed in a bit.”</p><p class="p1">You keep the explanation purposefully ambiguous. They saw your bandaged hands, the bulky cast you wore for weeks. Yet you have not once divulged the words Dr. Choi had whispered while he thought you were under sedation. Or expressed the fear that continues to grip you at the potential ruin of your defining pastime. But Mimi doesn’t seem to care, already shivering with delight at getting her way.</p><p class="p1">“Are you kidding? Anybody would die for one of your pieces!” she warbles, and Jaehyun’s eyes immediately go to yours at her choice of wording. She’s going on, completely unfazed by what she’d inadvertently said, but the two of you, oh the two of you, you both are stabbed through by that deciphered meaning. He goes very pale, and you turn your attention back to the other woman so you don’t become faint.</p><p class="p1">“The dress is white tulle, very fluffy, very princessy,” she explains, dreamy cast over her eyes as she pictures the garment. “My flower seed is a peony so I’d like those embroidered in baby pink over the hem.”</p><p class="p1">And now instead of Jaehyun’s cheeks being the ghastly alabaster they were, they’re as baby pink as Mimi has described. She’s one of those people, who’s searched up what kind of flower seed she’d been given at birth, that would ideally blossom under the tender hand of her true love. You suppose you could be classified as one of those people too, but you’ll choose to sit on your petty high horse for this one. They’ve been dating for some time, he shouldn’t be this embarrassed that she’s discussing these kind of matters.</p><p class="p1">You clear your throat, suddenly awkward. “Do you have a picture of the dress?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, I left my phone at home. Let me run and grab it.” As Mimi makes an exit, you can’t help but notice that she refers to Jaehyun’s place as <em>home</em>. They must be closer to having their blossom ceremony than you’d thought. Hm.</p><p class="p1">“You don’t have to do this,” Jaehyun is on you as soon as his girlfriend is out the door, concerned and confused and everything in between at your acceptance of her request.</p><p class="p1">“I already said it was fine.” You are not intending to get into an argument right now, especially about this.</p><p class="p1">But he doesn’t escalate, he changes the subject so abruptly you get emotional whiplash, “Did you know? That Mark was coming?”</p><p class="p1">Did you know? You’d been the one to set it into motion.</p><p class="p1">“I was just given the information that the Vice Premier would be visiting,” you give him the perfunctory, closed off, technically true answer. Yuta’s assignment had only listed the VP as the guest of honor, not his son as well.</p><p class="p1">But that doesn’t satisfy Jaehyun, because his voice dips into that crooning voice he uses only when he’s trying to pry some specific hurtful thing out of you, “Is that why you didn’t come over? Why your light was on all night?”</p><p class="p1">You suppose it’s a blessing and a curse that Jaehyun is the only other occupant of this hill, with an unimpeded view of whether or not your bedroom is illuminated. Your eyelids jam shut, words gravelly with a familiar plea, “Please don’t.”</p><p class="p1">You feel his hand enter the proximity of yours solely due to the increase in temperature his body gives off, and you yank yours away before he can make contact. He continues to weasel the answer out of you, “You didn’t answer me at the train station either. Are you okay?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m surprised you even have to ask.”</p><p class="p1">“I know it’s the Vice Premier but Mark is your best friend. He hasn’t been back since—,”</p><p class="p1">Before he can finish that sentence you swerve your words over his, “No, Mark is <em>your</em> best friend.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is speechless at that, the first acknowledgement that there’s been some kind of fracture in your friendship with your almost brother. But really, how hadn’t he picked up on that sooner? You’ve never brought him up of your own volition since he’d gone, wince violently whenever you see him on television.</p><p class="p1">“Got it!” Mimi bursts back into your place, waving her phone. “Here it is.”</p><p class="p1">To forget where that conversation had been going, you busy yourself with looking at the design on the screen. It’s not hard to see why she’s picked this one out, it’s sophisticated and classic, with a strapless top and a skirt of tulle that will show off the undoubtedly fancy shoes she will get commissioned from a designer.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, this is lovely,” you hum, because it really is, and you’re already picturing the delicate flowers here and there, what strategy you might take in fulfilling her request, “A swirl pattern up the skirt, maybe even some up the bodice. Might look nice.” You’re almost glad she’s asked you to fix it up, because without the notes of pink you’ll add in, it is a touch too close to bridal for your liking.</p><p class="p1">This won’t even be the fanciest thing you’ve made — you sewed the VP’s ascension jacket, after all — but somehow, it feels like it’s the most important. You want to get the details right. Mimi appears satisfied with your opening offerings, and she pats you on the shoulder with a smile, “That all sounds great! We’ve gotta run but I’ll come back so we can discuss again!”</p><p class="p1">She laces her hand with Jaehyun’s again and leads him away back towards the entryway of your house. He doesn’t attempt to open his mouth and say any more.</p><p class="p1">After Yuta holds the door open for them, he takes that moment to slip inside and close the door behind him, sauntering over to where you’ve sunken down to sit on the couch. His hand dances through your hair, then cups your cheek softly as he asks, “You’re going to sew again, huh?” Of course he’d somehow picked up on the direction the conversation had gone and of course he’s asking you about it.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t say no now.” You don’t even know if you’re capable of sewing in the way you had before, but you’re in the water without a lifejacket now. It’s survive or suffer the consequences, sew or risk disappointing Mimi.</p><p class="p1">He hoists himself over the couch to sit by you, hand dropping to hold your knee. “It’s a good thing, right?”</p><p class="p1">“I suppose.”</p><p class="p1">“Why’d you agree anyways?” Yuta wonders, fingers going here and there on your leg in familiarity. “You’re not even friends with them anymore, not really.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know. I. I just couldn’t say no,” you admit, because that is your reality, that you’re not friends with Jaehyun anymore, at least not in the way you’d been before, but that you also couldn’t say no to his girlfriend’s request.</p><p class="p1">Then, so faintly you know Yuta can’t hear, “Plus, you know who I sewed my last shirt for. It’d be nice for that memory to not be the last of them.”</p><p class="p1">That is the real truth.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">At the end of another long week of existing, the sun has already gone down when you hear Yuta's departing greeting, “I am off for the evening.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, yes, have a good night,” you don’t even look up from your book, only waving a hand at him without a care, knowing the night guard will be at your house soon. But when you don’t hear the requisite open and close of the door, you glance up to see your bodyguard hovering by your shoe rack. “Did you want something?”</p><p class="p1">“The boys are meeting up,” Yuta explains, “somebody threw a party for Mark, something chill.”</p><p class="p1">Mark had left a lot of friends and acquaintances behind when the family’d moved away, so this comes as no surprise to you. “Okay? You don’t need my permission to go. You’re off.”</p><p class="p1">“You should come,” Yuta offers, and you make no attempt to hide your eye roll.</p><p class="p1">“I’m not going to willingly go into a place when I know everyone will only talk about me,” you chide him lightly, because you know he hadn’t meant any harm with his suggestion.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, I’ll be there. Like I always am,” Yuta’s tone mellows into melty encouragement, rushing over to put a hand over yours. “Mark is your best friend, and you haven’t seen him in a year.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t know why people keep bringing up you and Mark like they think you’re still okay. Almost everything that’s happened between you two has been agonizingly played out for all to see. But living in separate cities has probably done enough to sew those wounds shut in people’s minds. Not yours.</p><p class="p1">You mutter to yourself, “It’s clear we’re not friends anymore, what are people even thinking?”</p><p class="p1">“What?” Yuta doesn’t catch what you say, for good reason.</p><p class="p1">“Nothing,” you brush it off, then rally yourself because there’s no getting out of this. “I’ll. I’ll go.”</p><p class="p1">You assume that the enthusiastic grin Yuta shoots you then will sustain you throughout the night, but that jolt of supplied energy dulls away when you step inside the random house that’s been designated as the party location. You don’t make a spectacular, eye-catching entrance, but the hushed buzz that starts to emanate when you walk in is inevitable, despite you doing your best to conceal yourself behind Yuta’s frame.</p><p class="p1">“It’s her. It’s her.”</p><p class="p1">“I can’t believe she actually came to one of these.”</p><p class="p1">“No way, I thought she never left her house.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta turns back at that last one, and you can’t help the I told you so tone you take, “See? What did I say?”</p><p class="p1">At least he has the decency to look guilty, and he squeezes your arm before giving you a peace offering, “I’ll get you a drink.”</p><p class="p1">He folds into the crowd of people hanging by the kitchen, and the spot where he’d been standing is filled with Johnny’s broad form, mischievous grin on his face no doubt due to the half empty beer already in his hand. You’re grateful that he’s blocking you from view, so much so that you let him corner you into a bit of wall, his hand bracing him up as he leans in close.</p><p class="p1">“Haven’t seen you out in a while.”</p><p class="p1">“You saw me at the train station,” you counter, though you know that’s not what he’s talking about. He means that this is the first time in maybe six or seven months you've willingly had a conversation with him. </p><p class="p1">Johnny’s shoulder nudges yours as he brings himself even closer, “You know what I mean.”</p><p class="p1">“I know,” you sigh. “It’s just. A weird time.”</p><p class="p1">A weird time is certainly putting it lightly.</p><p class="p1">“You could liven up that weird time by going out with me,” Johnny drawls, confident and cocky. You’re even more grateful that he’s acting like this, in the same manner he used to flirt with you when you’d spent every day together. You’ve lost track of the number of times Johnny’s asked you out, whether it be as a joke or for serious, but there’s no reason for you to say no now. It’s a new time, a reformed you. Besides, you’d kissed the last time you’d seen him alone.</p><p class="p1">“Okay.”</p><p class="p1">“You didn’t have to rej—,” he starts as usual, then he literally chokes on his own breath, “wait, what?”</p><p class="p1">You shrug, hoping his dumbfounded grin will jolt that energy you’d lost earlier back into you, but all hope of that is permanently lost when you hear, “Who was the girl in black at the train station?,” through the open entrance to the living room.</p><p class="p1">“Here’s a beer,” Yuta reappears, reaching past Johnny to hand you your beverage, but you’re not listening to him, you’re feeling a particular brand of anticipatory fear searing its way into your brain.</p><p class="p1">“That’s y/n. You don’t know her?”</p><p class="p1">“Should I say something?” Yuta whispers, and Johnny nods in agreement.</p><p class="p1">“No. I want to listen,” you breathe out, then you fix the pair of them with a stern glare. “You two shouldn’t.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n…” Johnny whines, and you hold out a hand. You can predict the exact way they’ll blow this party up if you let them make a scene on your behalf. And you sort of, kind of, really want to know how this memory is told amongst your peers.</p><p class="p1">“I’m serious, go somewhere else,” you warn them in a stern tone. “Now.”</p><p class="p1">They exchange furtive glances, but ultimately end up shuffling away, more than a few concerned looks thrown back your way from the duo. You take a big gulp of the beer cup Yuta had retrieved for you, and you peek out from your hiding spot. It’d be a funny scene, if not for the subject matter, the sight of a bunch of adults anxiously awaiting story time like they’re still in preschool.</p><p class="p1">“I’m not from here,” you recognize the man speaking as Kun, Lucas’s visiting from overseas cousin. “Should I know her?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s a looooong story. Emphasis on the long. Do you know what happened last year?” Heachan is at the head of the room, cup in hand as he spins the tale.</p><p class="p1">Kun contemplates the question for a bit, then nods, “Bits and parts of it, I think.”</p><p class="p1">“Why’d you ask about y/n though?” Doyoung interjects. “You interested?”</p><p class="p1">Kun’s embarrassed blush can probably be seen from your house on the hill. “I don’t know. She’s beaut—,”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t bother,” Lucas hisses at his cousin.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, brother, you’d be going up the stream with no paddle on that one,” Doyoung agrees, pouring more alcohol into the man’s cup in consolation.</p><p class="p1">“Does she already have a boyfriend or something?”</p><p class="p1">Binnie is here too, she’s the one who clarifies, “She’s not actually taken but everyone knows to steer clear from her.” You involuntarily wince. Though you know the kind of gossip that has pervaded Neozone for the past year, it still hurts to hear it vocalized in this blunt way.</p><p class="p1">“What? Why?”</p><p class="p1">Kun’s brow furrows as he looks to his cousin, then back up to Haechan who then probes, “So, by knowing about bits and parts of last year you mean you know… what exactly?”</p><p class="p1">Here it comes.</p><p class="p1">You brace yourself against the wall, leaning your head back as you listen to your story come fumbling out of Kun’s mouth, “I know that that the Vice Premier’s youngest son died on public broadcast, though there was a girl there who tried to save him.”</p><p class="p1">You should go, you really should run from this house right now, but it’s as if the multitude of voices from behind you have plastered you right to the wall, immobile.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, that girl was y/n.”</p><p class="p1">“No way.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes way. That’s why she was up on the platform with Regent Jung. She’s, like, an icon now.”</p><p class="p1">Heachan’s distinctive voice takes over the narrative, “A lot of the footage was scrubbed afterwards, because people made a fuss about how horrific it was, but we all saw it live.”</p><p class="p1">Then you’re not there anymore. You’re in the eerily cold attic of the Pandora Building, unable to control the catastrophic shaking of your limbs, huddled into a heap that is a quarter of the size of your body.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Talk,” the boy in your arms wheezes, blood bubbling up between his lips in his struggle to voice his request. “Please.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>You have no idea what to say, what to do beyond hold him and weep, feel the way his lifeblood’s keen thud has started to dwindle under your fingertips. He wants you to talk, but how can you do so when your tongue’s been paralyzed with heartbreak? But this is his final request, his plea for comfort, and you can’t just sit here and be silent.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“I think there’s a boy from home I actually want to marry,” you whisper, incredulous chuckle escaping from you at the choice of topic that had sprung out of nowhere. “I think. I don’t know.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Well that was an incredibly gory story to explain what we’re trying to say,” Doyoung pointedly interrupts Haechan’s recollection, in order to prevent the gruesome details from coming out. “But the point is, no one’s been able to figure out who she was talking about.”</p><p class="p1">Somebody else chimes in whose voice you don’t recognize, “I’m pretty sure every guy in town wanted to think it was him.”</p><p class="p1">“That was the most talked about thing after she came back, which was super fucked up,” Lucas tells his cousin. “But I guess people couldn’t help it. They wanted the love story to erase what we had all watched.”</p><p class="p1">Doyoung sighs, then continues on, “There was so much speculation. Still is, but it’s quieted off because she rarely comes to town now.”</p><p class="p1">“The only people who really ever see her anymore are her bodyguard and the Regent’s son.” Binnie only knows that information because she’s heard the stories from her sister, that you go to Jaehyun’s house from time to time for an unknown reason.</p><p class="p1">There’s a pause, and then Haechan’s conspiratorial tone comes creeping out, “The rumor is she hasn’t spoken to the Vice Premier’s son since, despite the display at the train station.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Oh yeah? Do you love him?” The boy’s bloody lips turn up in an amused grin, and though the action seems to pain him, you’ve sparked some kind of life in his eyes.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>You give him your most earnest, honest confession, punctuated with a sniffle, “I have no idea.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“You probably do," he proclaims, and though he’s just a kid, the gravity of his statement drives a stake right through you. Is it possible that you actually are in love with that person? He soldiers on, managing a cheeky, “Is it my brother?”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>You can’t help the peal of mournful, joyless laughter at his bold inquiry, then you nod, “If that will make you happy, then yes.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“You gotta—,” he coughs then, crimson blood spattering against the smiling strawberry on his breast pocket, chest heaving with the effort. “You gotta tell me.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Your instinctive reaction is to bluster, to force your lips shut and not divulge anything. But it’s him, and it’s you, and the most devastating truth of it all is that your secret is never going to be exposed, because he is about to die. And you know that telling him will bring you one modicum of relief.</em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>So you do, you bend your head over to his tiny face, and whisper the name into his ear. And ever so quietly, labored and</em> <em>sincere, you hear four words that catapult right into your heart, “I’m sure he does.”</em></p><p class="p1">“Whoa, Mark?” Kun gasps, because as VP Lee’s son, Mark is widely known as a public figure, even to out of town visitors.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I keep forgetting you’re not from here,” Haechan spells out the strands tying you together. “Y/n was the Lee family’s seamstress and she was best friends with both of his sons.’’</p><p class="p1">Lucas adds on the rest of the context, “Plus, there were others. Yuta, her bodyguard, was Mark’s bodyguard at the time. And Jaehyun’s bodyguard Johnny was also always with them. The six of them spent a lot of time together, we were all friends at one point.”</p><p class="p1">The details don’t matter, because you can feel the sticky tattoos of blood across your arm, where he’d tried to grab you but failed, his voice so childlike as he begged through his tears, <em>Please don’t let me die, please, please don’t y/n</em>.</p><p class="p1">“We all know it can’t be Jaehyun, because he’s dating Mimi,” Binnie informs everyone, like she’s the authority on the matter. “But everyone else is still on the board.”</p><p class="p1">“Mark, Yuta, Johnny, any one of them definitely could’ve been who she was talking about,” Haechan continues on. “But there was a point where Regent Jung had to publicly ask people to stop going to her house to find evidence.”</p><p class="p1">The stickiness turns into saltiness, of the drops of tears splattered on your arm as you silently cried on your living room couch. Yuta guarding the door as groups of bystanders tried to crane their neck over the electric fence blocking off your neighborhood to catch a glimpse of you.</p><p class="p1">“Why’d she bring it up then if she knew what was going to happen?” Kun questions, and it’s a valid point, you yourself have no idea why that came out of your mouth in the hour of desperate need.</p><p class="p1">An authoritative statement peals into your ear, “If you thought you were about to die, you’d say weird shit too.”</p><p class="p1">You’re driven into action by the voice you don’t recognize, and you peer back into the dark room to see Kyungsoo standing in the middle of the crowd that’d been discussing you, casual beer bottle in hand but stance menacing. Everyone has fallen silent to see him there, especially so when they see Mark by his side, expression blank.</p><p class="p1">“Nah,” Kyungsoo quickly amends the point he’d made, “the weirdest shit is the fact that all you guys can talk about is who she’s in a relationship with when you really should be worshiping her for keeping the region intact.” He sits down in the open chair by Haechan, taking a long swig of his drink, face daring anyone to argue back</p><p class="p1">The partygoers fall silent, conversation soon nervously dissipating into unrelated topics, because they know full well what happened after.</p><p class="p1">Elyxion had steadfastly denied any involvement in Jeno’s death. Regent Oh had showed up to the boy’s Pandora funeral on behalf of all of Elyxion and had offered Mark's father the region's full respects. They had even walked side by side behind Jeno's casket processional. But the fiery sentiment against them had blistered through Neozone, burning straight through even the most neutral of citizens. You saw then how it’d nearly consumed Mark.</p><p class="p1">Despite the investigation by the Security Ministry into the events that led up to the kidnapping still being incomplete, Neozone citizens had raged for some action to be taken. The Neozone Regents, led by Jaehyun’s father and backed by Premier Kim, had then tried to push VP Lee into casting the deciding vote on a declaration of war against Elyxion, as punishment for what had happened. You'd spent all of last February hidden away in your room, your security personnel tripled, as reporters and brownnosers alike tried to get your thoughts on the political unrest. With each day that passed in silence, you were more and more sure the entire nation was going to erupt into a devastating war as a result of the actions of three men.</p><p class="p1">But, the Vice Premier voted no, and the declaration of war died in the assembly before it was able to be ratified into legality. </p><p class="p1">A different set of rumors had disseminated in the time that followed. It was seemingly publicly accepted that in his speech of denial, Vice Premier Lee had proclaimed that a vote of no confidence would be what both you and his late son would’ve wanted. No more violence, no sending the young men of Neozone out into a war zone to seek comeuppance for the crimes of a few individuals. You somehow found yourself as the coiling thread tying the tension of the regions together. In the months that had passed up until now, you’d seen almost no developments in the situation with Elyxion. There were no continuing news reports, no shocking headlines in the papers, and the number of prying eyes that came to your gate had, thankfully, dwindled. Though there were still little to no answers about anything that had happened to you in Pandora beyond the facts that you already know, you'd parked yourself at the mental conclusion that no news is good news.</p><p class="p1">So, yes, technically Kyungsoo is right. You had saved the region, in a sense. All of the men in the room right now would be out at the border fighting if this had gone any other way.</p><p class="p1">“Oh! You’re here?”</p><p class="p1">You nearly skyrocket out of your skin at the sudden question, and turn to see Jaehyun beside you in the hallway. He must be surprised as anyone that you’ve ventured out of your home, and he tells you as much, “Here at a party, accepting dates to go out with John, what’s gotten into you?”</p><p class="p1">“Are you mad?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” he elbows you fondly, sending a slosh of beer over the rim of your cup. “I meant it in a good way.”</p><p class="p1">Your forehead wrinkles as you try to decipher his intentions. “What do you mean?”</p><p class="p1">He uses the sleeve of his henley to wipe off the spilled alcohol from your hand, and his light hum blends into the pulsing music in the background, “I haven’t seen you out with the old folks once since it all went down. There’s only so much dinner you can have at my place before you go crazy, huh?”</p><p class="p1">You know that he’s continuing to pry at you, to try and figure out why you hadn’t shown up to your scheduled Sunday dinner last week. Though you’ve been to exactly fifty-four of these, it’s still so much for you, to go to his house and be around him, week in and week out. At least Yuta has the sense to never bring the incident up. But Jaehyun, well, he is much more of a stark reminder of your past life.</p><p class="p1">You can’t help the curl of your lip when you grumble, “I didn’t ask to have weekly dinners at your place be a thing.”</p><p class="p1">“Come on, are you really still mad?” he wheedles, tugging at the hem of your jacket.</p><p class="p1">You’ve hemmed and hawed and made a scene each of those fifty-four times, doing nothing but expressing your utmost reluctance to attend dinner. You mostly sit on the recliner in his living room in utter silence, nursing a beer, as he cheers for Bats games, or tries out new alfredo recipes, or does some of his work for the policy office. He’s too morally upright to watch you waste away, but the level of cheery nonchalance he holds is something you can’t match.</p><p class="p1">“What do you think?” you hiss, glancing around to make sure no one’s listening in and continuing on, “That I actually enjoy sitting in your living room, watching you laugh about baseball and listening to whatever new song Baekhyun’s come out with like everything’s fine and dandy?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s mouth opens, like he’s shocked to hear you haven’t enjoyed the time you spent together, then he presses closer into you to whisper, “Losing Jeno was the worst thing that ever happened to me, that ever happened to all of us, but you can’t blame me for wanting to see the old you once more.”</p><p class="p1">“Why? The old me is never going to be a thing again.”</p><p class="p1">“Because the old you was who—,”</p><p class="p1">“There you are, babe!” Mimi appears out of nowhere, both a gratifying and distressing interruption when she turns to you in surprise as everyone else had. “Oh, y/n, you made it out!"</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. Time for me to go, though,” you say tightly, looking around the party for a specific someone. “Have you seen Yuta?”</p><p class="p1">“I think he was back by the kitchen,” she tells you, totally unfazed by the intense conversation she’s walked into.</p><p class="p1">You remove yourself from their nucleus as fast as you can. But it’s like out of the fire and into the storm, because as you push through the partygoers to get to the kitchen, it’s just whisper after whisper after whisper, each mouth saying the exact same thing. <em>That’s y/n, she’s here</em>. Each set of eyes doing the same thing, staring unabashedly, with a select few flinching away as they’re prone to do.</p><p class="p1">You barrel straight into someone, try to pass them by with a muttered, “Oh, I’m sorry,” but you seize into stillness at what you hear next.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, bee.”</p><p class="p1">“Hi, bumble,” you breathe out. </p><p class="p1">It’s Mark, in a grey hoodie and jeans, the same sort of casual outfit he’d wear when his dad had no official schedules. The two of you awkwardly begin the same shuffling song and dance that had begun at the train station.</p><p class="p1">“I, uh,—,”</p><p class="p1">He brushes past your attempt at conversation with one of his own, “It’s nice to see you here. Legend says you’re a tumbleweed in the wind these days.”</p><p class="p1">You can only muster a short, “Yeah.”</p><p class="p1">“Um,” Mark fumbles, trying to keep this flowing along but not being able to, and you’re just as stuck. What can you talk about with him? There’s nothing, really, nothing you can discuss without splintering completely. Because even still, he is the only one who can have your heart ensnared in his hand like this.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo rushes up to where you are and grabs Mark’s arm in concern, “Hey man, I think I saw Ten throwing up everywhere by the bathroom.”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, fuck,” Mark curses lowly, handing Kyungsoo his beer and taking off down the hallway. “Be right back.”</p><p class="p1">You watch Mark scurry away, then turn back to Kyungsoo. Over his shoulder, you spot a distinct head of purple hair by the keg in the kitchen and point it out, “Ten is over there.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo raises a pointed eyebrow, “I know, but couldn’t let that excruciating conversation go on for any longer.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">“So, I assume this means the wild gossip is true then? You haven’t spoken to Mark since getting back?”</p><p class="p1">It’d be easy to maneuver your way around the question, to call upon the technicality that he’d moved out of the city. But you give Kyungsoo the truth instead, “We talked once, before he left, and that was it. And talked doesn’t even really cover what’d happened.” Those are details too intimate to share, even with him.</p><p class="p1">“The way he talks about you made me think that you’d been attached at the hip the whole time,” Kyungsoo wryly chuckles, but there is no such echo of amusement from you.</p><p class="p1">“He what?” you gulp nervously at that reveal. “Mark does that and he still doesn’t know?”</p><p class="p1">It was weird that Mark had tried to introduce the two of you at the train station. You thought it was public knowledge, how exactly you and Kyungsoo know each other.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I mean, I was never directly on the footage but I always thought it was well known that I was there. I don’t know if he plays ignorant or what, but he did seem genuinely surprised that we knew each other. No one here seems to recognize me, either.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m gonna be honest, I never thought I’d be grateful to see you. But I am,” you confess, lips twisting up into a reluctant smile. Your previous assumption was that crossing paths with Kyungsoo would feel like ripping your back open again, but it’s not that at all. For once, you actually feel safe.</p><p class="p1">“Because I save you from a variety of situations, now they’re only uncomfortable instead of dangerous?” He lightly jokes, and you let him, because he’s the only one allowed to be saucy about this subject.</p><p class="p1">“Something like that,” you tease in return. Then the offer bursts forth from your mouth, “You want to come over to my house tomorrow?” Okay, y/n, what the hell are you doing right now? You're not the kind of person to go inviting strangers <em>(though Kyungsoo can't be a stranger anymore, not really)</em> into your home, especially after the year you've had.</p><p class="p1">“The famed house on the hill,” Kyungsoo hums. “I’ve never been up there, you know.”</p><p class="p1">“Come by for dinner then. Eight?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is about to answer when Yuta bursts into the conversation, eyes worried as he glances you over, “Hey, heard you were looking for me? You want to go?”</p><p class="p1">“I—,” you start, because you kind of want to stay here with Kyungsoo. But Jaehyun is right there in the corner, and here’s Mark coming back up the hallway and, shit. You should go. “Yeah, Yuta, let’s go.”</p><p class="p1">You allow your bodyguard to take your arm and begin to lead you out of the party, but not before you call back to Kyungsoo, “Think about it!” Because it would be nice, after all, to have another person around for once. To mitigate the nervous energy that pulses between the two houses on that hill.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’ve honestly forgotten the dinner proposal until there’s a sharp rap on your door at precisely eight the next evening.</p><p class="p1">Yuta looks up from his tablet in bewilderment, “Are you expecting someone?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. I didn’t think you’d still be here.” You’ve gotten close with Yuta to the point where you don’t care about sugarcoating things with him. He puts his device down, but you spring up off the couch first, beating him to the door with a, “Don’t bother, I’ll get it.”</p><p class="p1">Your bodyguard rolls his eyes. “Subtle way of asking me to leave.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t dignify him with a response, only unlocking the door and swinging it open, greeted on the other side with the sight of a very dumbfounded Kyungsoo. Your home has a certain luxury to it that most people don’t anticipate. You know he’s shocked by the vaulted ceilings, the glittering chandeliers and monochrome decoration, but most especially, the wall made up entirely of windows.</p><p class="p1">“Holy shit,” he marvels as he steps inside, taking it all in.</p><p class="p1">“Hello to you too,” you deadpan.</p><p class="p1">“I never thought it’d look like this in here,” Kyungsoo continues to gape at all the finery as he takes off his shoes and coat. “How’d you get this place again?”</p><p class="p1">“The Vice Premier purchased it for her when she moved here,” Yuta answers in your stead, taking his place as your shadow, though he has no reason to. Yuta is the person you tell everything to, but you’ve kept Kyungsoo from slipping through the cracks.</p><p class="p1">“This is Yuta, my escort,” you do the introduction for him, because you know from his stiff tone that his concealed suspicion will override his politeness.</p><p class="p1">“Hey man, I’m Kyungsoo.”</p><p class="p1">Your friend politely shakes your bodyguard’s hand as you explain, “Kyungsoo is Mark’s friend from Pandora, though he’s originally from here in Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">If Yuta was trying to hide his distrust before, he’s holding nothing back now, eyes narrowing after what you’d said, tone harsh, “I don’t know you though.”</p><p class="p1">“He’s older than us,” you attempt to assuage Yuta’s wariness. Just because Kyungsoo graduated from the high school the year before Yuta and co. had started there doesn’t mean that he’s asked for this level of suspicion.<span class="Apple-converted-space">  Besides, it's not like Neozone is the kind of small town where everyone knows everyone. </span>You give your bodyguard a very pointed head nod towards the exit, “But you were just leaving? The night guard is here.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no room for him to budge or protest, he knows he can’t overstep his bounds by forcing you to let him stay. Very reluctantly, Yuta picks up his bag, moving slowly and stalling as long as he can while you and Kyungsoo silently wait and watch. But eventually, Yuta runs out of time to do anything but give you a terse, “Ma’am,” and leave your house.</p><p class="p1">“He’s uptight,” Kyungsoo jokes as soon as the door shuts.</p><p class="p1">Though you know Kyungsoo’s observation is not completely misguided, you feel obligated to defend Yuta in some way, “No, he’s not, I don’t exactly get random visitors in my daily life. That sort of thing makes him uneasy. ”</p><p class="p1">“Oh yeah, what is it?” Kyungsoo scrunches up his voice in an imitation of Binnie’s from last night, “<em>The only people who really ever see her anymore are her bodyguard and the Regent’s son</em>?”</p><p class="p1">Your breath comes out in a low, pained exhale. “You heard that.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo nods grimly. “Yeah, I did. Kept an eye on Mark so he didn’t, though.”</p><p class="p1">“Thanks. Saving my ass, again.” You’re filled with gratitude for his preemptive action. Having Mark overhear a discussion on your personal life, especially concerning him, would be way too embarrassing for you. He doesn’t need to know the details of that, for sure.</p><p class="p1">You suddenly remember that Kyungsoo is here for dinner, not to go over the topic of Mark, and you feel really out of your depth. “I uh, don’t really cook. But we can order something if you want. Or I can make you a frozen meal.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not hungry, but if you want, I can cook later,” he suggests, and it wouldn’t be half bad to test out his supposed legendary culinary skills in person. “I really came to talk, though. ” He wants to hash this out? Great. No time like the present to ruin your evening by discussing what you’d gone through together for the first time ever.</p><p class="p1">“I guess we are the only people in the world that can talk about this shit with each other and understand,” you mutter.</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t mean about that stuff,” he concedes, leaning back against the wall beside you, close enough so that your shoulders brush. “I just wanted to talk.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a quiet knock on the door, and you grumble when you hear it, “Sorry, that might be Yuta again. I’ll tell him to fuck off.” You’re so sure that it’s Yuta, in fact, that you don’t bother to check through the peephole before opening the door once more. That means it’s a very rude bombardment for you when you see who it actually is.</p><p class="p1">“Hey.” It’s Jaehyun.</p><p class="p1">“Hi.”</p><p class="p1">You make no move away from the door, to let him into your home or do anything otherwise. You press your hand into the deadbolt so tightly the metal hisses into your skin, and you prepare to wait him out, to hear what he has to say and then dismiss him. You’re not in the mood to talk, especially after your conversation at the party. But he’s towering and you’re tiny compared to him and it’s not hard for Jaehyun to glance past you and see Kyungsoo inside. You’re not sure if Mark has done the introductory greetings and you’re about to do so, when you get a very confused, “Wait, were you seriously mad about the dinner thing yesterday?”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun brings his face so close to yours you can pluck out every single wrinkle of displeasure in his nose when he hisses, “It’s Sunday, it’s the second Sunday in a row you’ve missed dinner. And you’re here with him?”</p><p class="p1">Oh. Oh. Jaehyun thinks you’ve blown him off on purpose to spend time with Kyungsoo. That’s not what’s happening here, not at all. You actually have a viable excuse ready, you’d completely forgotten what the day was, and it’s different because Kyungsoo isn’t in town all that much, if ever. And though you’re not talking about <em>it</em> exactly, knowing that he understands is comforting.</p><p class="p1">You don’t even get a chance to give it to him, though, because he’s letting out an exasperated, “Fine, if that’s how you really feel about it,” and stalking off from your entryway.</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun!” you call after his retreating back. “Jaehyun!”</p><p class="p1">But he doesn’t stop. He blows completely past the idle fountain and slams the door of his house behind him, the noise echoing across your shared plaza. You slowly close your door, at a snail’s pace, one millimeter at a time, totally dumbfounded as to what just happened. You had an explanation, you did.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo can’t hide his amusement when you turn back around. “Who was that?”</p><p class="p1">You walk over to the fridge to fish out a beer, groaning lowly, and toss it to him. “The Regent’s son.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, that Regent’s son. I didn’t realize he lived in the other house across the way.”</p><p class="p1">“I think his family would prefer he didn’t,” you quip, filled to the brim with sarcasm as you think of just how high Regent Jung’s nose upturns when he comes up here to visit. “Mark didn’t say anything? Jae’s basically his second brother, he was part of the friend group the kiddo always talked about.”  The story of you can’t be told without the accompanying story of Jaehyun, Johnny, and Yuta.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo shrugs, “I mean besides you, he doesn’t mention much about life here. I suppose for good reason.”</p><p class="p1">You grab a beer of your own and then darkly joke, “That should be on a billboard when you drive in. Neozone: Skeletons Everywhere!”</p><p class="p1">You hold out your arms like you’re picturing the road sign and Kyungsoo guffaws, his deep voice billowing warmth into your home like the installed heater. To hear such a hilarious sound come from his usual serious face sets you off into a fit of giggles, and soon the pair of you are laughing away on the couch, beers in hand, like you’re the oldest of old friends.</p><p class="p1">“So, like,” you try to compose yourself in between sniffles of laughter, “I don’t even know where to start. What do you actually do?”</p><p class="p1">You’d spent a harrowing week together, not exactly the kind of time that allowed you to freely shoot the shit. You’d spent half of that week unconscious, the two boys spending most of their time gossiping.</p><p class="p1">“I went to XK University, studied political science, then permanently moved to Pandora to work in a small political activist organization,” he parrots out the information as he’s surely done many times before. He takes a long drag of his beer and finishes in a dull manner, “But I haven’t really tried to go back to work since. You?”</p><p class="p1">“Neozone U, and I guess I’m unemployed. I don’t know. I’m this figure of the city now, everything of mine is paid for by the government,” you feel so blasé about the state of your existence, you can’t help the nostalgia that comes creeping up, “I thought I was going to sew for the Lees forever. I loved it.”</p><p class="p1">You swear you would’ve sewed away until you were old and grey, Mark and Jeno’s blossom ceremony shirts, their wedding suits, the christening gowns for their babies, the wedding dresses for their daughters. You’re at the point now where you’ll never be able to do so for one brother, and the other would rather not associate with you ever again regardless of your feelings towards him.</p><p class="p1">“Speaking of love,” Kyungsoo interrupts your dreary internal thoughts. “You single?”</p><p class="p1">Even though he’d been unconscious at the time you’d said those things to Jeno, you’re sure he’s seen this spot in the footage. Everyone has. You roll your eyes. “You know that.”</p><p class="p1">“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he clinks his bottle against yours in subtle apology, then sighs with weariness, “Well, damn. Is life really that shitty for both of us?”</p><p class="p1"><em>Yes, it really is</em>, is the true answer. But you have to be more diplomatic than that.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know. I mean, you haven’t been here long but you’ve seen what it’s like for me,” you stare out the dark windows, entranced by the shimmering moon over the river.“The whispers, the stares. It’s usually only pity or concern, but the worst is when it’s mixed with fear.”</p><p class="p1">“Pity, I’d expect. The people in Pandora who know, it’s all they ever look at me with. But fear?” Kyungsoo questions, about why you’d included that particular emotion in your description of people’s reactions toward you. You’re a bit surprised.</p><p class="p1">You speak the words to the protection of the moon, too afraid looking at Kyungsoo will trigger one of your old crying fits, “Everybody in this city saw what I did to those men from Elyxion. They see me and they somehow think I’m capable of doing it to them, too. As if I didn’t do what I did because of Jeno.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s pained exhale slices right through, like it’s something he hadn’t even considered you were going through. His voice is so, so muted when he murmurs,“They don’t know what it’s like, that moment of survival that consumes you when you’re forced to fight for your life. That must be infuriating for you.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s not infuriating, it’s crippling,” you whisper, fingers coming to wipe away a crystalline droplet that’s squeezed itself out of your eye. Every pained stare is loaded with the weight of that blade in your hand, the boiling heat of crimson blood spattering across your face and your arms, the ragged edge of your torn throat as you cried. You’re not a killer, you’re not.</p><p class="p1">A metallic ping pierces through the silence, Kyungsoo checks his phone and informs you, “It’s Mark. He and his dad are going out for drinks and invited me. I’ll tell them something came up.”</p><p class="p1">“No,” you put your hand over his phone screen before he can type out a reply. “I’ll be fine. You should go.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n…”</p><p class="p1">“I’m fine. I’ve sat on this for over a year. You going now won’t be any different than any other night.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve marinated, dwelled on, mashed this thought in your brain every which way. You can count on one hand the exact number of nights that you’ve lived through that haven’t been wholly consumed with recounting the way you’d killed the men who’d killed Jeno. Having Kyungsoo put off his life to prop you up is totally unnecessary at this point.</p><p class="p1">You take his beer from him so he can put on his jacket, and in the middle of tying his shoe he suddenly reveals, “I’m glad I decided to come back when Mark asked.”</p><p class="p1">Your eyebrow raises. “Really?”</p><p class="p1">“Really,” Kyungsoo answers with an earnest grin, reaching out to wrinkle a corner of your shirt. “I know you said this yesterday, but it’s so good to see you again.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t resist the impulse to hug him, the gesture familiar to you by now. Satisfied, you stand by your window to watch him as he walks out past the electric fence and disappears down the hill. Okay, the last thing you have on your agenda for tonight is to go over and apologize to Jaehyun, to explain the truth of why you’d missed dinner. It’d been a misunderstanding. Really. You practice the excuse slash apology on your walk across the plaza, <em>You know how I get, I sometimes forget what day it is, I swear I wasn't trying to blow you off-,</em></p><p class="p1">But the poised apology on the tip of your tongue has to wait, because he’s not the one who opens his door.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, y/n.”</p><p class="p1">You’re instead staring up into the face of your handsome friend, who’s in cozy pajamas instead of his usual dress outfit. “Johnny? What are you doing here, isn’t the night guard supposed to be on duty?”</p><p class="p1">He shakes his head, stepping out onto the doorstep to join you and explain his presence, “Nah, Jae invited Mimi over. I took the night shift too, so I could hang.”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, what?”</p><p class="p1">You put up a hand on the doorframe to catch yourself from stumbling, realizing you have more beer sloshing inside you than you thought. Jaehyun had invited Mimi over? Granted, you’d been preoccupied with Kyungsoo, and Mimi is his girlfriend, but. But Sunday nights are dinner nights, despite your less than pleasant feelings towards the occasion.</p><p class="p1">Johnny is as confused as you, knowing the schedule on Sundays well. You always see his car leave the hill before Jaehyun knocks on your door to summon you. He rubs at his hair in that way he does when he can’t figure something out and says, “I don’t know, don’t you guys usually have dinner at this time? Kinda random. Anyways, can I text you tomorrow?”</p><p class="p1">You’re so wrapped up in this bizarre development that you almost miss what he’s said, “Text me? For what?”</p><p class="p1">“About the date?” He whispers, glancing around though there’s no one else out here with you. “Are you free this week?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh. Yeah. Friday for sure,” you agree, because you had agreed to it last night. There’s no taking it back now. “I’m sorry, I haven’t had that much alcohol in a while.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll keep that in mind when I plan,” he offers, finally gaining the confidence to flirt with you while sober.</p><p class="p1">But you move past the flirting into a request that’s much more important, fingers nervously pinching at your palm, hair falling out of your braid and into your face as you duck your head, voice going quiet, “Um, then can you also plan for it to be at one of our places as well? I understand the optics of going to someone’s house, especially on the first date. But something public, might. Might be hard for me.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not going to sleep with Johnny the first time you go out. But you’re not going to go to a restaurant, either. It’s a lose-lose scenario for you.</p><p class="p1">His hand gently brushes against your cheek as he tucks the fallen tresses behind your ear and softly concedes, “Sure, anything you need.”</p><p class="p1">A nervous blush cascades across your cheeks, quite unsure of how to act. In terms of receiving blatant affection like this, you’re definitely inexperienced. You’ve felt it in your chest before, but never got to pluck it out from others, pluck the fresh blooms of a man’s pink cheeks. “I’m not picky beyond that. I like pizza. And wine.”</p><p class="p1">“I know all of that. You haven’t changed, don’t worry.” His hand slips down to hold yours at his sentence of reassurance, and it’s nice of him to do so. Nice to get that reminder.</p><p class="p1">“John, who’s there?” At the sound of someone calling from inside, Johnny’s throat expels a noise of his surprise and his hand drops from yours in his haste to open the door only a crack to conceal you.</p><p class="p1">But he doesn’t move fast enough, and it’s enough for Jaehyun to see. “Y/n.” He’s only visible in the thin sliver of space between the wood, but his face is lined with displeasure, tone heavy with annoyance. So much for coming here to apologize, you won’t bother if he’s going to act like this.</p><p class="p1">“I was just leaving,” you grumble, slipping away as fast as you can. “Sorry to disturb.”</p><p class="p1">The evening had been so nice, between your poignant conversation with Kyungsoo and Johnny’s fresh endearment. But Jaehyun had to go and mess it all up.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u for reading! the plot is about to get super interesting and ANGSTY! LOL</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. hibiscus rosa-sinensis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is the bald truth confronting Mark head on, coming from the mouth of his own parent. He can subjectively blame you to his heart’s content if that gives him comfort. But there’ll come a time where he’ll have to reckon with the fact that he knows the two of you didn’t do anything wrong.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if you are left hand dominant, just flip the description when i talk about handedness later in the chapter lol. it was too hard to specify without saying one or the other.</p><p>also a no-hitter in baseball is what it sounds like, when the pitcher does not allow a hit the entire game. they're pretty rare.</p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You neglect to tell Yuta what day you’ve settled on, but by the time Friday night rolls around you’re agitated with nervous energy. You must ask him at least ten times by the time seven thirty rolls around if he’s planning on leaving soon, and though he definitely picks up on it, he’s tactful enough to stroll out of your house without a pointed question. Your house must be under discreet surveillance, because the moment you can no longer hear the engine on Yuta’s car, there’s a knock on your door. Okay y/n, this is it, may as well go for it.</p><p class="p1">Johnny doesn’t even appear fazed that you’re in shapeless black sweats, only grinning and holding up his gifts, “Sausage only and white wine, did I remember?”</p><p class="p1">“You said it yourself, I haven’t changed," you hum. You’re touched that he’s remembered your favorites, and watch with a fond smile as he rushes to put the pizza down and snag a slice, surely starving after getting off duty himself. “Thank you again for agreeing to do this here,” you continue, because it’s comforting to be here, in the sanctity of your own home instead of out in public.</p><p class="p1">He hands you a slice of pizza, rummaging through your cabinet to find two glasses for the wine as he says, “It’s me who should be thanking you for for saying yes.” Suddenly shy with the notion that you're here on a <em>date</em> with your oldest, and perhaps most handsome friend, you busy yourself with stuffing pizza in your mouth and making a beeline straight to the living room, sitting on a cushion that doesn't allow him such direct access to sit next to you. </p><p class="p1">“It’s been forever since I’ve been in here,” he marvels out loud as he takes in the elegant interior of your home, strolling behind you. “Since before, nope,” he catches himself before he brings up anything else. “I won’t talk about that tonight. But you know.”</p><p class="p1">Yeah, the last time you’d all been together here had been before Changmin’s blossom ceremony. A different era.</p><p class="p1">You blurt the first thing that comes to mind to swerve around the subject, lifting a hand to your ceiling, “I installed a new chandelier. Well, Yuta did, because I didn’t want the installation guy to come here.” It's all part and parcel of the new life you've gotten used to, too wary of letting any sort of stranger into your personal space, emotions too strained to allow anyone to approach you.</p><p class="p1">Johnny whistles, impressed by the rose gold and diamonds. “Very nice.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t remember the last time you hung out one on one, you’re usually surrounded by any number of others, but moreover, what are you supposed to talk about on a date? It should be feeling like a hangout of old, but now that you have that specific moniker outlining the rosy boundaries of the time you're sharing together, you're at a loss.</p><p class="p1">“So, like. What’s new?” Nice one, y/n, you absolute dunce.</p><p class="p1">“I mean, I wish I had more to report, but my life is pretty much the same,” Johnny answers, which is about par for the course. “I work for Jae’s family, I still live in the same apartment by the post office.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t have a job, I still live in the same house,” you echo your similar response after you’ve eaten more pizza and taken a very generous gulp of wine. Suddenly, you see an opening for an actual conversation, “Well, I keep telling everyone I’m unemployed, but I guess I’m not anymore.”</p><p class="p1">He’s intrigued now. “No way?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, Mimi commissioned me to embroider her dress for Jaehyun’s birthday party,” you divulge.</p><p class="p1">“And you said yes?”</p><p class="p1">“I said yes,” you affirm, tacking on, “trust me, I know,” when you see his eyes blow wide.</p><p class="p1">Your own gaze darts down to the fading tiger striped white scars across your right hand, then you give an instinctive stretch of your left hand, motion creaky but fingers fully extending. You’d worked diligently at your physical therapy despite every cell in your body screaming at you to give up, because you’d sworn that that shirt wouldn’t be the last thing you’d sew. </p><p class="p1">“What are you thinking of doing? Can I see it?” he eagerly inquires, scooting closer to you.</p><p class="p1">Truth be told, you haven’t done any planning beyond your first impressions the afternoon Mimi had come by. She’s supposed to be stopping in later in the week now that the skeleton of her gown has been delivered, and you were going to do your designing then. But John’d asked and you don’t want to blow him off and have the conversation dissolve back into awkwardness.</p><p class="p1">“I haven’t seen the actual dress yet, but let me sketch out the picture I saw,” you reach for a sheet of paper from your side table and a pencil, roughly drawing out the silhouette of the dress Mimi ordered. “It kind of looks like this, and she wants pink peonies all over it — it’s her flower you know,” you hope that’s not supposed to be some kind of secret, but you blow by that as you detail out the little flowers here and there on the drawing, “I thought I’d scatter them here on the bodice, here at the waist, and all along the hem, to make it look like a garden.”</p><p class="p1">Johnny nods, entranced for a second by watching you work, and then he fixes you with his standard cocky grin, “You want to know what my flower seed is? I looked it up randomly when I was bored one day last year. Took me this long.”</p><p class="p1">You hate that this subject is tantamount to flirting, but your exasperation with him is only lightly put on, “No.”</p><p class="p1">“A pumpkin seed.”</p><p class="p1">“Shut up, maybe?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m kidding,” his fingers brush against your shoulder as he puts an arm around you. “It’s a hibiscus, if you can believe it. Which is hilarious considering everything about me.”</p><p class="p1">You lean back tentatively into his warm frame, trying to picture this being an every day occurrence, and don’t find the scenario that unbelievable. “Yeah, you’re so right. Doesn’t a hibiscus mean delicate beauty?”</p><p class="p1">“I told you. Hilarious.” Though John is the world’s biggest softy at heart, nothing about his tall and intimidating frame could be considered delicate.</p><p class="p1">“Anyways, I’ve been doodling on this until she brings the dress by next week,” you pull out the notebook you’ve been styling your peonies on, the cheery pink flowers smiling up off the page.</p><p class="p1">“Those are going to be soooooo dope,” Johnny whistles in appreciation as his hand traces over the loopy petals. “I still wear that bat tie whenever I can. Jae says it’s dumb for me to do that but I love it.”</p><p class="p1">“Aw, I also loved that tie. It looked so good on you,” is what you say in pleasant gratitude, but you’re really boiling with pure annoyance. How dare Jaehyun say it’s dumb for Johnny to wear your old gifts? Just because he hasn’t worn his in a long time doesn’t mean your other friends have to police themselves in the same way.</p><p class="p1">“You still love the Bats, too?”</p><p class="p1">Any mention of the baseball team would make your face illuminate in a small smile, “V Kim’s been on a ten game hitting streak, right?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah! And Taeil —,” Johnny starts, and your voices overlap in unison as you complete his sentence, “Moon took a no hitter into the ninth!” You high five him, then laugh, “That was so crazy, I swear Yuta was so pissed the Samurais lost.”</p><p class="p1">“Jae and I lost our goddamn minds when the Samurais got that hit,” Johnny’s not at all subtle by keeping his grip on your hand after your high five, but you don’t say anything. “Hey, you should come to baseball night. I didn’t realize you were still into it, I try to hang out every home game so we can watch.”</p><p class="p1">Oh, that means Jaehyun hasn’t told.</p><p class="p1">You vocalize the first excuse you can think of, “I don’t think Yuta will appreciate me ditching him for you guys,” because it doesn’t feel right to tell Johnny that you already spend time with Jaehyun watching baseball. It wouldn’t have been of consequence before, but now it feels like something you should keep private.</p><p class="p1">“Why? Something I’ve got to be worried about?”</p><p class="p1">You think he’s talking about Jaehyun, so you immediately answer, “No, silly,” but your answer doesn’t change when you realize he’d been jokingly asking about your bodyguard. “I don’t know, it’s just a thing we do. Yuta’s not the kind of person you need to be worried about.”</p><p class="p1">Johnny’s right eyebrow shoots straight up, saucy. “Oh yeah?”</p><p class="p1">“Watch yourself,” you tease, then get serious, “I meant it in a way that he’s always with me, so it’s not in your best interest to get worked up about what we do together.”</p><p class="p1">You and Yuta have had an exceedingly close relationship for the past year, no one has seen quite the same slice of you as he has. The nights where you stay sat on the couch, lost in thought as you stare out the window for twelve hours. The days where you stay wrapped in a blanket in your bed, not even coming out to eat. Each and every instance that a diamond teardrop comes out of your eye. Even from an outside perspective, it would not be a far off assumption at all to conclude that you were more than just employee and client.</p><p class="p1">“What do you do together?” Johnny pries, tone knowing and joking, but perhaps laced with curiosity.</p><p class="p1">You shove at his arm with a laugh, “I said watch yourself. That’s for me to know, and for you not to.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s for me to know, and for you not to,” he pitches up his voice to make fun of you, and you can’t help the giggle that peals from our mouth. “What, is this a Netflix rom-com or something?”</p><p class="p1">“Hey! John!” you gasp in mock offense as you pinch him right in the side. He flinches, jumping nearly a foot off the couch, and that sets him off. Growling smile in place, he launches at you, hands tickling at your ribs, your mirth ringing out in to the living room, “Ah! Don’t, I’m too ticklish!”</p><p class="p1">The attack goes on for a few minutes more, until you’re both panting in tiredness and laughing your heads off. He reaches over and pushes back a strand of your hair, like he’d done on the doorstep earlier in the week, and the mood changes in an instant.</p><p class="p1">“So,” he starts quietly, “What made you change your mind?”</p><p class="p1">You lean an elbow on the couch as you look over at him, “What do you mean?”</p><p class="p1">“I mean, I asked you out once a week for like what, six years? You never said yes.”</p><p class="p1">He’s practically screaming his unasked question, <em>was the guy you were talking about me?</em></p><p class="p1">There’d been reasons you’d said no before, some small, some less so, but the biggest one of all was that the two of you lived in different stratospheres. Sure, Johnny isn’t the rich family’s son, like Jaehyun or Mark, but his father’s status as General is enough to afford him extreme privilege. And though the Vice Premier always treated you as one of his own, there existed an apparent class line you weren’t sure you could cross. John’s position as Jaehyun’s bodyguard could’ve afforded him a better match.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know,” you sigh, because that is the truth. “Things are different now. Jeno made me look at a lot of things differently.”</p><p class="p1">That class line is no longer there, that isn’t the type of petty thing you can concern yourself with anymore. There are deeper fissures in your emotional state you don't possess the capacity to fix.</p><p class="p1">“I mean, you know I’ve always liked you,” Johnny confesses. “That’s no different.”</p><p class="p1">He’d made it very apparent when he’d kissed you outside of Changmin’s blossom ceremony, the display of ardor something you’d never experienced before. You’re getting caught up in Jeno’s echoing words, <em>you probably do</em>. That had been the stake of realization that shifted it all.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I know. I’m just, not sure how to describe what changed,” you confess in return, expecting to glance back up at Johnny and find him put off by your non-answers.</p><p class="p1">Instead, what you get is a very taken John, his lips parted as he gazes down at you. He blinks once, twice, fingers grasping at the suede of your couch in a concerted effort to hold himself back. You don’t know if it’s the wine, the subject matter at hand, or the familiar blaze that’s ignited in your cheeks, but you can’t blame him when he gives up on his struggle and bends forward to bring his face into yours. He’s right there, mouth only a heartbeat’s breadth from yours, and he—,</p><p class="p1">“Hey, have you seen John, the night guard…” A recognizable voice explodes into your house, and you tear yourself away from Johnny in a second.</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun!” You must’ve missed your lookout’s knock, as wrapped up with Johnny as you were, and now here Jaehyun is. Here he is, in the middle of your living room, gaping at the close proximity of the pair of you.</p><p class="p1">“Dude!” Johnny groans in displeasure.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” Jaehyun yelps, finally coming to his senses. “I’m sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“Give me a second, okay?” Johnny mutters into your ear, before he launches himself off the couch and over to Jaehyun, tugging him out of earshot.</p><p class="p1">Heart racing, you lie back down on the couch, hoping to give them the privacy they need, because they haven’t chosen to leave your house to have this discussion. They tuck themselves into a corner by your coat closet that should provide them the proper distance not to be overheard. But Johnny’s emotions are running high, and he doesn’t have the control he needs to muffle the conversation, “What’s going on?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know, the night guard isn’t here, so I thought something happened to you that you couldn’t clock out,” Jaehyun whispers.</p><p class="p1">“Dude, I told you I was going to be here,” Johnny hisses, completely incensed, “And that the night guard wasn’t coming until nine. You said it was okay!”</p><p class="p1">Wait, what?</p><p class="p1">You peek up over the couch and catch the way the tip of Jaehyun’s nose turns bright red, “Right, I, I. I guess I forgot.”</p><p class="p1">Okay, so maybe that class line isn’t as gone as you’d thought. Is Jaehyun that upset that Johnny’s continued to go after you, instead of perusing through any number of Mimi’s friends that have been into him for so long? Specifically Yooa, who’s mooned over him ever since college? Is that really what he's implying right now, that you're too lowly in status for his friend, the son of Neozone's greatest General?</p><p class="p1">You rub at your eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by all the conclusions you’re forcing yourself to leap to. Your mouth does the work for your heart, “Maybe you should go. It’s kinda late… and I’m tired.”</p><p class="p1">“I uh,” Johnny hesitates. You know what he wants, to stay and steal the kiss you’d been prepared to give him. But now that gesture feels too exposed with Jaehyun here.</p><p class="p1">“Come on, John,” Jaehyun pulls at his friends sleeve, hurrying to acquiesce your request, more likely trying to get Johnny out of whatever trap he thinks you’ve laid for him. It’s a strange tug of war, you there on the couch, Johnny stuck in place, Jaehyun trying to remove him from your presence but also continuing to stare.</p><p class="p1">“Alright,” Johnny concedes, giving you a lame wave and a, “Goodnight, y/n,” before they both disappear out of your house.</p><p class="p1">Your nose wrinkles with indignation at your closed door. Now Jaehyun’s batting two for two. Two nights this week you’ve been having a lovely time, two nights this week he’s absolutely ruined.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You don’t know why the idle thought that Kyungsoo loves blueberries pops into your head, but it does, and it does so with perfect timing as Yuta’s about to go to the grocery store to pick up your weekly haul. You want to have them in your fridge, for the next, inevitable time he comes over; but you don’t want to ask Jaehyun if you can take a stroll through his backyard to see if any have miraculously bloomed this early in the season. You're still far too annoyed at him for that</p><p class="p1">You muster up the courage to ask, “Can I tag along today?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s charming smile spreads widely across his face. “Wow, Rapunzel is coming out of her tower.”</p><p class="p1">“Only for my prince.”</p><p class="p1">“Is that me, or rocky road ice cream?”</p><p class="p1">You snatch one of the shopping bags out of his hand at his facetious statement and give him a very generous roll of your eyes as you walk out of the house. “Surely the ice cream, no?”</p><p class="p1">“Oof,” he mock groans, pretending to be shot through in his heart, “that one hurts deep.”</p><p class="p1">Winwin is off today, and though it’s just the two of you in the car it almost feels normal, like this is could be an everyday thing, without consequence. He even defers the radio choice to you, not grumbling once when you switch it to Katy Perry instead of the awful country he pretends he doesn’t love.</p><p class="p1">“So, how was your date,” he doesn’t hold anything back, asking the question you know he’s been itching to. “Don’t try to deny it, you weren’t subtle, shooing me out of the place.”</p><p class="p1">“I wasn’t going to deny it,” you huff.</p><p class="p1">He starts up the teasing back and forth that you always seem to go through, “I can’t believe you let him take you out before me.” There’s always been that undercurrent of flirtation between the two of you, less blatant than the attention John foists upon you but there nevertheless. Yuta had had his dalliance with Seola, but always seemed to come back to you.</p><p class="p1">“You’re technically my employee, conflict of interest!” you recite the same excuse you always do, only this time you tack on, “And John didn’t take me out, we stayed at home and ate pizza.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s semantics and you know it.”</p><p class="p1">He’s got a point though. You’d been dangerously close to crossing that line, and you remain more than a bit bothered at Jaehyun’s intrusion.</p><p class="p1">Yuta is smooth, polished to the point where he whips off a clean u-turn into the store parking lot at the same time he offers, “Okay, so if you feel good enough to go to the grocery store, why don’t you go out to a restaurant with me?”</p><p class="p1">“Yuta.”</p><p class="p1">“I mean, you can say no if you want to,” he quickly backtracks, not trying to come across as twisting your arm. He tries a different approach instead, a gentler tone, “But, I can get a private table, and I’ll be there the whole time. It’ll be no different than how it usually is. You trust me, right?”</p><p class="p1">He’s your shadow, the sturdy trunk of your tree propping you up in society, so yes, you do trust Yuta. And the idea of going out to somewhere like the cozy Italian place on the corner is a nice one, spilling unadulterated warmth right into the hollow of your chest. You’re collecting dates one by one like the flowers you’d pick as a teen, somehow unsure of how you’ve made it to this point, but knowing this is the time in your life to do so.</p><p class="p1">“I, um,” you nervously start, running through the last second decision you’re about to make. “Okay. Yeah.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta doesn’t choke or stutter like Johnny had when you’d accepted his request, he only gives a tiny fist pump to accompany his satisfied grin. “Hell yeah. I’ll even plan it on a baseball night so we have an excuse to get done with dinner faster.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t help your accompanying grin as you open the door of the car, letting the winter wind blast right through your black coat. But the sound of the breeze isn’t the only thing you pick up, there’s some crowd commotion out to your right. When you squint to look, you spot the Vice Premier and Mark, with Ten and the other guards, right by the entrance to the store. They’re surrounded by a gobbling throng of reporters.</p><p class="p1">Your bodyguard is taking his sweet, sweet time getting out of the car, surely reveling in his victory. You can’t say anything, because you can’t alert Yuta to the state of things. All you can do is hurry your pace up, maybe you can make it inside before he does something—,</p><p class="p1">“Yo! Mark!”</p><p class="p1">Something like that.</p><p class="p1">All Yuta’s done is called to his friend, stuck his hand up and waved, but it’s like he’s bled you dry in front of a pack of hungry vultures. You watch in, terrifying slow motion, as Mark’s head turns first, followed by the choreographed swivel of all ten reporters’ heads. All ten reporters’ heads that recognize you.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n! Y/n!”</p><p class="p1">Your back slams into the metal of your car as they descend upon you an instant, vicious and unrelenting, an armada of microphones pointed into your face before you register what’s going on. They’re so tightly crowded around you that Yuta can’t even reach you through the crowd, leaving you helplessly alone in the epicenter of it all.</p><p class="p1">The nearest blonde woman is polite enough not to jam her microphone right into your mouth as she takes the lead, “Momo Hirai, from the Zone Star, care to comment on the Vice Premier returning to Neozone?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry?”</p><p class="p1">“This is the Vice Premier’s first visit back to his home city since moving, do you have anything you wish to say to him?” she clarifies, this time inching her device closer to you.</p><p class="p1">This, this is something you’re not ready for, you’ve received no PR preparation, no list of appropriate answers to give. Think, y/n, think, how can you get out of this as fast as possible? You fix the reporters with a slight, polite smile, and say,“Well, I’ve already greeted him at the train station, but it is surely a celebrated moment for Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">“How do you feel that they decided to celebrate the one year anniversary of Jeno Lee’s passing in the capital instead of here?”</p><p class="p1">Your fingers twist into your palm in the hidden depths of your sleeve, and you work hard to keep your words even as you answer, “I heard the celebration in Pandora was quite fitting.”</p><p class="p1">“How are you doing—,”</p><p class="p1">“Move aside!” A man that had been trapped in the back of the circle finally manages to break through, crossing deeply into your personal space, “Siwon Choi, from Breaking 127. You’ve never been interviewed about the events that transpired in the capitol, are there any behind the scenes moments you can tell us about?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta finally barrels his way into the foray, pushing Siwon away from you, “Behind the scenes? That wasn’t a TV show!”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n? Anything?” The famed news reporter seems unfazed by your bodyguard, turning his scarred cheek to refocus his attention on you.</p><p class="p1">But the behind the scenes moment you’re thinking of is not one that you can tell him.Would the viewers of Breaking 127 want to know the way you felt each one of Jeno’s trembles as he tossed and turned with a fever, how you could see the white of his femur bone peeking through the gash of his leg? Would they like the behind the scenes look into how you'd take three, four, sometimes even five showers a day in the time directly after, unable to get the sensation of hot, slick blood off your arms? </p><p class="p1">“Y/n?” he prods at you, trying to pull an answer out but getting nothing. “Alright, well any insight you can give us on your final comments that you made to the young Mr. Lee? Any clues we can share with our readers on who you were talking about?”</p><p class="p1"><em>I think there’s a boy from home I actually want to marry.</em> Jeno, why’d you ask me to talk, why did you do that?</p><p class="p1">“Dude, come on,” Yuta shoves him back, being less than pleasant now in his attempts to get them to leave you alone.</p><p class="p1">But that only sets off their collective desire to pry that tightly held information right from you, a cacophony of deeply probing questions manhandling you from all angles.</p><p class="p1">“How’s your relationship with the eldest Lee son?” “Why did you decide not to move to the Lees when most of their household did so?” “Any thoughts on the rumors that say you are a recluse these days?” “What are your comments on the tentative peace your region has had with Elyxion?”</p><p class="p1">The sticky hotness of your left hand means you’ve drawn blood with how tightly you’ve pinched through your skin, but you can’t feel anything, swept up in the daze and panic. Your lungs constrict with each consecutive breath you take, precious air dwindling and dwindling until your vision explodes at the next question you hear,</p><p class="p1">“Is it true that you still have a scar from the incident?”</p><p class="p1">No. No one is supposed to know about that.</p><p class="p1">“Ms. Y/l/n is not a public figure and is not available for public interview,” the Vice Premier’s commanding voice suddenly echoes through the circle, the frenzy stilling at his presence. Mark appears severely displeased, though you’re unsure if it’s with you or with them. Nevertheless, his father gives you a gracious out, “Take the comments she gave and be grateful for them.”</p><p class="p1">Before another query can be directed in your direction, Yuta opens the door and shoves you inside, running around back to the driver’s side and hightailing the car out of the parking lot.</p><p class="p1">Your efforts to breathe again are wholly consuming to the point that you can barely hear Yuta’s concerned, “Hey.”</p><p class="p1">“Just give me a second.” You hold up a shaky hand, pressing your forehead right across the cold glass of your window. </p><p class="p1">Every inch of you is bursting with terrible electricity, you’re unable to control a single volt of it, the chaotic nervousness giving you the most terrible feeling you’ve felt in a while. When it’s just you at home, or you and Yuta, you and Johnny, or even you and Jaehyun, it’s never this way. You’ve gotten to the point where you can compartmentalize it all, can remember Jeno without the crimson stain on his lips, only with the childish sparkle in his eyes.But to have people beg you for the details in this way? It’s wholly unnecessary, because it’s all on the tape.</p><p class="p1">The ten minute drive back to your house is an inconsequential moment of time, but you spend the entire length of it trying to stop your fingers from smearing the blood back and forth on your palm. Even when the car comes to a stop, you keep going, and Yuta grabs your hand over the dash to halt your pained tremors. His voice is hushed as he says, “I’m so sorry, I thought you were handling yourself beautifully, but he came out of nowhere.”</p><p class="p1">Your mouth opens and closes, opens and closes, “I, I didn’t know what to say. I-, I-,”</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”</p><p class="p1">“He just kept asking, he kept asking about Jeno, why, why did he do that?” Your trembling hand claws at your chest, trying to get those airways to open up from the outside, frantic eyes darting his way, begging, “Why, Yuta, why would he do something like I don’t understand. Why would he do that, why.”</p><p class="p1">“Shhhh. Shhh,” he soothes you, trying to massage at your cheeks to calm you down as he’d had to do before. But he can’t get a good grasp on you from his seat, so he gets out of the car, running around and opening your door so he can kneel in front of you. His gentle hands cradle your face, imbuing a small boule of stillness into you. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs. “Stay here, let me get a blanket.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s not a foot away from you when there’s a very excited, “Hi, y/n!”</p><p class="p1">You scramble out of the car at the voice, trying to stand and appear normal to whoever’s decided to show up. Who that turns out to be is, “Mimi?”</p><p class="p1">Yup, there is Jaehyun’s girlfriend, waving happily at you with one hand and holding up her dress bag in the other. Right, you were supposed to discuss your gown design with her today, and now you can’t blow her off because she’s already here. Maybe playing at normalcy is what you need to calm you back down.</p><p class="p1">“You want me to get her to leave?” Yuta mutters under his breath.</p><p class="p1">“No, no, she was supposed to come by.” You squeeze his hand in reassurance that you can handle this. “A blanket would be nice.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta is incredibly reluctant to leave you there on your own. But he must sense the quieting of your shakes, how your voice has evened out a bit, because he turns and runs into the house as fast as he can. You let out a quiet breath, then turn to face Mimi.</p><p class="p1">“I have the dress! Also, these folks were looking for you, so I let them in!” she says as she simultaneously moves the garment bag from where she’s holding it up behind her. She may as well have stabbed you right through with a knife instead, due to what her gesture reveals.</p><p class="p1">It’s not all ten of them, but there is a handful of the reporters from the grocery store here on your lawn. Siwon Choi is at the front, scarred cheek menacing as he barrels forward, each of them shouting a variation of the same thing at you, “Y/n, we have to get some footage of you for the story! You ran off so fast! Y/n, here!”</p><p class="p1">When the tall man in the very back hefts a video camera over his shoulder, a terrorized gasp escapes from your lips, “Wait. No, no.”</p><p class="p1">Mimi hears you and whispers reassuringly, “I think they’re just reporters, y/n.”</p><p class="p1">But there’s another camera, and another, and your horror billows right into your throat, body cowering right into the open door of your vehicle. “No, no,” you plead. “No cameras. No cameras.”</p><p class="p1">You’re too quiet and they’re too determined, they’re advancing in on you, flashing red lights and ominously huge lenses and their fierce barks, “Look in my camera!” “Look this way! We need a better shot!” “Look at this one here!”</p><p class="p1">You hold up a hand, trying to hide your terrified face and paralyzed mouth, only repeating a broken, “Please, please don’t, please don’t.”</p><p class="p1">“What the fuck are you people doing here! How’d you even get through?!” Yuta shouts from behind you as he re-emerges from the house.</p><p class="p1">But you see none of that, because at that second, someone is stepping out of the house across from you. <em>Jae,</em> your lips move silently, no sound breaking the barrier. His back is turned as he locks up the house to leave for work, and it doesn’t matter what discontent you’ve held for him recently. You have to get his attention, you have to.</p><p class="p1">“Jae!” you scream, ripping your throat clear in two. “Jae!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun doesn’t even have to register the scene, doesn't need to look, before he’s springing into action, sprinting through your shared plaza and leaping across the marble fountain into your driveway. He roughly shoves Siwon and a cameraman out of the way before he tackles you from the front, large frame shielding yours, hands grasping at your back. He walks you backwards, tucked into his chest, up the stairs and into your home, slamming and locking the door before anyone else can get inside.</p><p class="p1">Your legs start to give way with pure exhaustion. Jaehyun catches you before you hit the floor, folding you neatly into his lap as he sits down on the tiles, leaning right up against your shoe rack.You’re corded with so much tension you can’t relax in his arms, can’t rest your head in his shoulder, all you can do is sit and continue your struggle for breath.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re here,” he whispers, grasp smoothing into the skin of your neck. “You’re here in your house, it’s just you and me.”</p><p class="p1">“Jae, Jae,” you can barely form the syllables of half his name in between your fits of hyperventilation.</p><p class="p1">“Come on, you gotta breathe. Come on.” He takes drastic action then, pressing his nose up against your nose, melding his face into yours, so you can feel the even, steady exhale pealing from his lips.</p><p class="p1">You shake your head frantically, his bangs brushing against your forehead. “I can’t, I can’t. They put a camera in my face. They put a camera in my face knowing I was filmed, they know that but did it anyways.”</p><p class="p1">His fingers reach for the band of your bun, to release the tied up stiffness of your tresses, just as you hear the click of the key turning in the lock.</p><p class="p1">Your bodyguard’s professional voice comes spiraling through the crack in the door, “Mr. Jung, sir?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun keeps a firm grasp on you with one hand and waves Yuta away with the other. “Nah, man, give us a second.”</p><p class="p1">“No, it’s your girlfriend, sir,” Yuta clarifies, nervously peeking his head to see you in Jaehyun’s arms, your faces in proximal orbit. He does his best to block out the space so Mimi won’t witness the scene. After all, despite whatever overlap in your personal life the two men have, your sanity is the priority.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll be right back,” Jaehyun whispers, gently putting you down on the ground as he hurries to follow Yuta outside.</p><p class="p1">You can’t see the pair of them, but you hear it all.</p><p class="p1">“Babe, I—,” Mimi starts, but Jaehyun cuts her off, icy and disgusted.</p><p class="p1">“I gave you the fence code so you could come here, not bring half of Neozone with you!”</p><p class="p1">“Babe, I’m sorry, I was just trying to help! They were looking for y/n!”</p><p class="p1">He’s keeping his tone civil but his exasperation is beyond evident, “Think a little! They’re reporters! Have you ever seen her give an interview?”</p><p class="p1">Mimi falls silent, then there’s a quiet, “No.”</p><p class="p1">“Then why’d you think she’d want to give one now?!” Jaehyun hisses, and the rhetorical weight and implication of his words aren’t lost on her. She doesn’t have a defense or response, realizing that she’d crossed a very stark boundary of yours. You can't recall when the last time you'd even had a regular picture taken of yourself, be it a selfie or a photo on Yuta's phone, that's how deeply the idea of being on film again disturbs you.</p><p class="p1">“Stay there,” he orders her, then follows it up with, “guard the door,” which you assume is to Yuta, and by the time you blink again, Jaehyun is back on the floor next to you.</p><p class="p1">He grabs your hand and discovers the streak of blood against your skin, where the bruise shaped like Kyungsoo’s heel had once been, then works in haste to rub it off with his sleeve. He asks, “What do you want me to do? Tell me and I’ll do it. Get rid of the reporters, tell everyone else to go home, summon the guard here so you’ll be left alone?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know,” you murmur blankly. “I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll go if you need me to, too.”</p><p class="p1">“No!” you exclaim, hand closing around his in an effort to keep him right here. “No. Please don’t.”</p><p class="p1">Slowly, like he’s unfurling un-blossomed petals, Jaehyun opens your clenched fingers to gently dab again at the fading red swipe of blood, making no motion to leave. He quietly inquires, “Hey, you saw Taeil’s almost no-hitter, right?”</p><p class="p1">You find the subject random at first, then you realize what he’s doing. He’s doing what he does best, trying to get your mind off the subject. You nod, “Yeah. Of course I did.”</p><p class="p1">He wipes away the last bit of blood with a flourish, the nudges his elbow into your side, “That means I owe you, I guess.”</p><p class="p1">The smallest corner of your mouth twitches into a curve. “Do you now? I thought our bet was only for a real no-hitter.”</p><p class="p1">You’d agreed on the terms of the bet during the first dinner you’d had after this year's winter baseball season begun, on a night when you had been feeling better than usual. He’d looked so entertained by his idea, so pleased by the terms he’d written out that you could only agree, with little protest, despite your reservations on the matter. <em>If a pitcher on the Bats throws a no-hitter this year, Jaehyun will have to sew y/n something. If no pitcher manages to throw one, y/n will have to sew Jaehyun something.</em></p><p class="p1">Taeil Moon had been one out from throwing a no-hitter, technically not completing the terms of the bet. But Jaehyun does not care about the technicality of it right now. “I feel inclined to bend the rules,” he smirks. “After all, I set them in an effort to get you to sew again, but you’re already doing that.”</p><p class="p1">His teasing voice is enough to make you want to nervously pinch at your palm again. But that would undo the work he’d done cleaning your hand, so you need to control the impulse.</p><p class="p1">“Sly.”</p><p class="p1">“What do you want, then?”</p><p class="p1">You shrug, fiddling with a loose strand at the bottom of your jeans. Jaehyun might be talented at everything in the world except sewing. As teens, you’d tried to teach him how to sew holes in his socks, for when he was away at college and didn’t have you, but his huge hands had bent every sewing needle he’d tried with.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know. Something easy for you. It doesn’t have to be much. Whatever you want.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll do my very best work,” Jaehyun solemnly promises, two fingers in the air like he’s a Boy Scout or something. When a masked giggle slips from your lips, his eyes melt a little. “You feeling okay?”</p><p class="p1">You lean your head into his broad shoulder and breathe out, “Yeah. Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">You swear that Jaehyun would’ve stayed beside you on the floor for the whole day, risking getting fired from work for not showing up without any qualms. You don't want him to get in trouble on your behalf, so you shoo him out of your house after five more minutes of soaking in his calming presence. You also swear that you’ll go on forever denying that you’d sort of wanted him to stay.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Your nervous energy does a number on you, and you’re up before the crack of dawn the next morning to drink a coffee and read. But you’re not the only sleepless one in this city, because soon you get a knock on the door from the night guard, and a quiet, “Ma’am, you have a visitor.”</p><p class="p1">“Send them in—,” but the order crusts through in your mouth when you see who it is. You quickly scramble up, inclining your head in respect. “Sir.”</p><p class="p1">There is the Vice Premier, standing in the living room of the house he’d bought for you. He’s not in his official clothes, but in a sweatshirt and jeans, hair ungelled like he’d wear it on weekends. He smiles at you, his face having lost none of it's warmth, and says, “Y/n, sorry to intrude this early in the morning.” </p><p class="p1">“It’s alright.”</p><p class="p1">He gestures for you to sit, and you do, unsteadily pressing yourself back into the chair. VP Lee sits in the chair across from you, rubbing at his face with his hand, and then apologizes, “I am so sorry for what happened yesterday, it was completely inappropriate for the media to follow you around like that. I will be advising Regent Jung to place more restrictions on that in regard to you.”</p><p class="p1">The media wouldn’t have been there to ambush you if he hadn’t been, and you know he feels guilty. It’s an unnecessary sentiment, and you want to let him know that, “Sir. You didn’t have to come up all the way here just to apologize. I know you weren’t the one who sent them after me.”</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t come up here only to apologize,” he clarifies, “I came up here to see if you wanted to accompany me out today.”</p><p class="p1">“Of co—,” you immediately begin to answer, because you don’t turn down a request from the second most powerful man in the country.</p><p class="p1">He cuts you off before you have a chance to fully acquiesce, “Before you agree, let me tell you first.” He lets out a deep breath, hefted from the caverns of his chest, then finishes, “I thought perhaps we could go visit my son together.”</p><p class="p1">Your heartbeat doesn’t even tick before the words come out, “Of course.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n…”</p><p class="p1">“Of course. Of course we can go see him together,” you bluster, wrapping your hands around your coffee cup so he can’t reach out and comfort you. “I am not sure if Mark told you this, but I go see him.”</p><p class="p1">“You do?”</p><p class="p1">It had taken a slog’s worth of six months to muster up the courage, you sneaking away from the house under the protection of the hidden moon to make the trek down to the cemetery by the river. You’d knelt in the dirt by Jeno's grave and cried and cried, only composing yourself when the first dregs of sunlight started to pull at the sky, so you could get home in time without alerting your security.</p><p class="p1">“I go when I’m feeling up to it, and it’s usually late at night so no one can see me walking in, but I do.” You don’t need to explain your reasoning to him, it’s the kind of thing he will surely pick up on.</p><p class="p1">You get up from the table together, and without policing yourself from doing so, you place your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, a recall to the last time it’d been there, draped in bandages. You both take a pause on your porch when you step outside, soaking in the sprig of warmth in the winter morning breeze, and you slip away from him for a second, “Before we go, there’s something I need to do.” You crouch down by the patch of white flowers, pleasantly standing tall amidst your dead grass, and pluck out a handful of the blooms, stowing them away in your jacket pocket. When you meet the man’s eyes, a fissure splits through your gravelly explanation, “I uh, I leave a little sprig every time we go. I like to think it lets him know I stopped by.”</p><p class="p1">A wistful smile crosses his face. “You three would sit out there for days if you could.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” you sigh, the same wistfulness crossing over to you.</p><p class="p1">He points over to where a Pandora soldier is waiting with his Porsche and offers, “Um, we could take the car if you want, or we could walk. It’s surprisingly nice for the end of January.”</p><p class="p1">“We should walk," you decide on his behalf, "you haven’t been home in a year.” You take his arm again, heading away from the electric fence into the concealed forest trail that leads down the hill. You’re not entirely sure what a viable topic of discussion is with him anymore. He’d asked you to keep in touch and you hadn’t, and too much has transpired since to attempt a casual conversation about it.</p><p class="p1">He shoots a straight shot to the biggest elephant on the trail, “I’m very sorry we didn’t come back for the anniversary.”</p><p class="p1">“He deserved the big Pandora procession.”</p><p class="p1">“No, that was a time we should’ve spent together. I thought about it for a long time but Mark did not want to come. He would get sick thinking about it.”</p><p class="p1">You close your eyes, because you think you might be the one getting sick if you contemplate the image. If the countdown to that awful date in November had been that glaring and in your face here, you can’t imagine what it’d been like for the Lees, forced to watch each square on the calendar go by.“I don’t think you missed much. The Regent put something on but I spent that entire weekend blacked out. Sorry if that’s inappropriate.”</p><p class="p1">You’d exerted so much care in trying to avoid alcohol, not wanting to lose the memories and force yourself into having to remember the events all over again. Even the week leading up to it, you’d bullied yourself into staying away from the spirits. But that one day, that one specific day, all pretenses of morality had been lost. You’d drank every bottle of vodka in your house dry to the point where you’d passed out and Jaehyun had to break the door of your house open on Sunday when you didn’t show up to dinner.</p><p class="p1">“No, we did more than our fair share of drinking as well.” Truly, nothing about him has changed in the time he’s been gone, especially the fatherly concern he can’t keep concealed when he inquires, “Have you been okay, here alone?”</p><p class="p1">“Depends on what your definition of okay is,” you quip, then quickly realize that this isn’t the time to joke when he frowns. “I’m kidding. I. I don’t know. I can’t lie and tell you it’s fine when it really isn’t. But I manage.”</p><p class="p1">Managing is basically the only right way to describe it.</p><p class="p1">“I’m pleased you at least have Mr. Nakamoto. Mr. Suh, Mr. Jung, do you see them too?”</p><p class="p1">“When I can.”</p><p class="p1">“Good. You can’t lose them. I was so happy that you and my son continued your friendship in our time apart as well.” You have to grab the railing to ensure you don’t tumble down the last flight of stairs that leads to the cemetery’s entrance.</p><p class="p1">First, Kyungsoo had assumed that you and Mark had been attached at the hip this whole time from the sheer amount he’d talked about you. And now his father is doing the same? You would’ve thought the truth came out, that you’d spent your last day together in the worst fight of your life, that he’d revealed what happened with his mother as he blamed his brother’s death on you. But it’s clear he hasn’t told his father anything. You don’t get why.</p><p class="p1">And now you’re about to be face to face with him again, it’s already been four times and you still get the same course of anxiety through your veins when you spot his sunny blonde hair. There’s a black head of hair beside him, plus Ten’s purple locks hovering behind.</p><p class="p1">“I hope you don’t mind he and his friend wanted to come along,’’ VP Lee says once he notices them there.</p><p class="p1">It comes out as a whisper of wind, “Of course I don’t mind.”</p><p class="p1">Despite the anxiety, the ill will, the horrible things he’d shouted at you that last day, Mark continues to greet you in the same manner, “Hey, bee.”</p><p class="p1">“Hi, bumble.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s father gently takes your hand out of his elbow, then grasps his son on his shoulder and shuffles him away from you, “We’re going to pay our respects at the family mausoleum first. We’ll be right back.” Ten goes along with them, so it’s just you and Kyungsoo and Jeno, reuniting the trio that shouldn’t have been.</p><p class="p1">It’s so different to see his headstone like this in the morning sun, the golden light reflecting off the shiny marble, the elegant calligraphy spelling out his name sitting proudly in the middle of the marker. Part of the appeal of visiting at night is that it’s dark enough to pretend you’re at a grave that isn’t so clearly his.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo slaps the top of the stone like he would’ve given the teen a high five, voice solemn, “Sup, little man.”</p><p class="p1">“Hi, Nono,” you whisper, retrieving the flowers from your pocket and lying them at the foot of the stone. “It’s me.”</p><p class="p1">The sight of the tiny flowers by the imposing structure knocks the wind right out of you, forcing you into breathlessness when you say, “I can’t wait until spring comes. His grave looks strange without real flowers. Now that the VP is here I can ask him what he thinks, about my idea to plant Jeno’s flower here on his plot.”</p><p class="p1">“White lilac, right?” Kyungsoo asks, because Jeno hadn’t exactly been quiet that night when he’d told you about his shenanigans with the Horticulturist's Manual.</p><p class="p1">You nod, tiny smile dancing onto your lips, “Yeah. Youthful innocence. It was perfect.”</p><p class="p1">“How do you know Jeno’s flower?” Mark’s voice growls from behind you.</p><p class="p1">The pair of you turn to see your mutual friend fuming, his father and bodyguard both staring at him with apprehension.</p><p class="p1">“Did you ask her or something? Never mind, it doesn’t matter, you had no right to know!” Mark can’t decide if he wants to yell at you, Kyungsoo, or both, so he unleashes it all at once, “What the fuck are you two doing, trying to gang up on me or something? At my own brother’s grave?!”</p><p class="p1">He is incensed with anger in the way he was at your home, when you’d been too devastated to fight back or defend yourself or do anything but let him have a go at you. But you cannot afford for him to go ripping those scars back up, so you rush over and grab his hand, holding him firmly as you reveal, “Mark. Mark! Kyungsoo was there.”</p><p class="p1">He blanches, face draining completely of color. “What?”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungsoo was there in the Pandora Building with us, and Jeno blurted it out one night. I didn’t even know, he never told me.”</p><p class="p1">“But, but I’ve seen the video,” he mutters in confusion, glancing over to Kyungsoo, hoping he’ll deny what you’ve said.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s lips press into a thin line, voice coming out even when he explains, “I wasn’t ever shown on the footage, but I was there.”</p><p class="p1">“You were there and you did nothing?” Mark explodes again, before Kyungsoo can continue on. “You did nothing while my brother died?!”</p><p class="p1">You fist your hand tightly around his so he can’t rip himself out of your hold, trying to get him to understand, “Mark, listen to me. He was unconscious when it happened.”</p><p class="p1">You can tell Kyungsoo is trying to hold himself together to not agitate Mark, but it still pains him to recall, “They knocked me out for resisting. I had to re-watch that part of the footage because I couldn’t remember what happened, and there wasn’t a true shot of me there. You’d have to go by it frame by frame to see me.”</p><p class="p1">“He really was unconscious, kiddo,” Vice Premier Lee finally intervenes, serene tone instantly ratcheting down the tension as he gently disentangles his son from your grasp. “He was carried out unconscious, the doctor said that he’d been like that for a while.”</p><p class="p1">“Dad. You knew?” Mark’s question sounds so tiny and far away coming from him.</p><p class="p1">Mr. Lee holds his son out at arm’s length so they can have this conversation directly, “Of course. I am the Vice Premier, I was briefed on everything by the Special Forces. But we’d just moved, and you had no one, and could you blame me for inviting him to dinner with us? I thought that it would’ve come up, that you two would be able to understand each other.”</p><p class="p1">“It didn’t! You should’ve told me!” The second sentence is directed not only to his father, but to Kyungsoo, and also probably to you. You should’ve said something the moment you’d seen Kyungsoo with him at the train station. Keeping secrets has only led to utter destruction, that is for sure.</p><p class="p1">“I was so happy you were finally speaking to someone again, I didn’t want to take that from you.” The Vice Premier’s eyes are already glassy, one more blink and there will be a waterfall of tears on his face as he regards his son. This is the instance in which you’d take it all back, return to the moment where he’d asked you to come along to Pandora and agree instead. Mark had been alone all this time, even more than you had.</p><p class="p1">Mark spins away from his father to confront you, a typhoon of anguish hurling its way out of him and devastating you, “You both lied to me. You lied to me!”</p><p class="p1">“Son! Neither of them had a hand in Jeno’s death and you know this.”</p><p class="p1">This is the bald truth confronting Mark head on, coming from the mouth of his own parent. He can subjectively blame you to his heart’s content if that gives him comfort. But there’ll come a time where he’ll have to reckon with the fact that he knows the two of you didn’t do anything wrong.</p><p class="p1">“I just, I just,” he stutters, head lolling back and forth before he screws his eyes shut. “I can’t believe this.” He stalks off without another word, with Ten hurrying after him.</p><p class="p1">Attuned to his son’s moods, the Vice Premier doesn’t follow, but does question, “Have you ever seen him like this?”</p><p class="p1"><em>Yes.</em> “No. I feel so bad.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo runs a hand through his hair in frustration, upset at the role he’s taken in Mark’s distress. “I thought he knew, or at least put the pieces together.”</p><p class="p1">“Have we even figured it out?" you quietly add in, finally allowing yourself to make direct eye contact with Mr. Lee. "It was obvious they targeted Jeno because he was your son and they were from Elyxion, but it’s been radio silence otherwise. The investigation is still ongoing, but I was there and I still feel like I don't have all the details. Kyungsoo has no ties to you besides being from Neozone, of course Mark wouldn’t have fit it together.”</p><p class="p1">It’s in your nature, to defend Mark, despite the broken bridges between the two of you. There was no reason for him to look at Kyungsoo, a seemingly random young man, and come to the conclusion that he’d also been involved in his brother’s death. Especially when there was very little proof of his presence there.</p><p class="p1">Mr. Lee nods solemnly, with remorse creeping through for his well-intentioned but ultimately misguided attempt at helping his son. “You’re right. We should talk to him.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t feel comfortable enough to be included in that <em>we</em> yet, thus you politely bow out of the cemetery, “No, I think. I think I should give you guys some space. I’m kind of a reminder, after all.” It might be far too late to fix your friendship with him, but if he and Kyungsoo are this close now, they have to try.</p><p class="p1">When you get back to the house on your own with a Pandora soldier escorting you, Yuta is waiting for you. You answer his questions about your trip out to the cemetery with generic platitudes, but don’t give him much more. You’re altogether too consumed with the one message on your phone from an unknown number, its pointed promise a last shot of desperation, <b>I’ll fix it for you</b>.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’re grateful Mimi isn’t looking in your direction, and is instead distracted by her own reflection, so she doesn’t catch the pinch of your mouth as you look at her in her dress. How on earth are you going to make this happen for her? No time like the present to find out. You take your cut-out sketches and a bunch of pins over to where she’s standing on the stool, bombarded by the mass of white tulle in your vision. The prick of distaste in your chest is so harrowing that you physically grimace, disguising it as a cough as you kneel down to get a better look at the hem of it.</p><p class="p1">You have a pin through the first drawing of flowers when Mimi’s contrite concession comes tumbling to you, “Y/n, I’d like to apologize about what happened.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay,” you respond stiffly, almost pricking your finger on the end of another pin.</p><p class="p1">She bows her head again, not taking your acceptance until her full apology is out, “It was completely insensitive of me to not remember your little thing about video cameras.”</p><p class="p1"><em>It’s not a little thing, idiot</em>, is what you’re poised to say. But almost no one here possesses the right empathy to understand just what terror video cameras now instill in you, so you can’t entirely fault her. “Er. Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">“I know it’s been a tragic and trying time for you, the citizens of Neozone are rooting for you, our icon.” It’s a completely over-the-top sentiment, but coming from her, it feels genuine and supportive in her own ridiculous, extra way.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks.”</p><p class="p1">You busy yourself with continue to pin the chains of flowers you’d drawn out against the fabric of her skirt, sowing your own field of the blooms upon the tulle. You’d prefer to work in silence, but Mimi takes it upon herself to continue the chatter, “You know, it’s really been such a long time since we’ve had any girl time!”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, but that’s entirely my fault, so I’m sorry about that.”</p><p class="p1">You’d never spent much in the way of girl time together, you’d already only hung out with Mimi and her crew off and on before it happened. And that had dwindled away to watching her car drive up the hill whenever she visited Jaehyun. But you sense this is a segue into something else, she’s done this kind of thing before.</p><p class="p1">“Are you seeing anyone?”</p><p class="p1">Another narrow miss of a pin straight through your thumb. You sit back on your heels to glance up at her, and allow the sarcastic grin to paste onto your face, “Are you asking about now or about then?”</p><p class="p1">Her mouth drops in mock offense and she puts her hands on her hips. “Come on! I’m not one of those people!”</p><p class="p1">She’s definitely lying and hiding behind her propriety to do so, but you really do appreciate that she’s never leveraged her relationship with your neighbor to otherwise go digging in your personal life. You were once good friends, it wouldn’t hurt to get back into this groove too. You shoot her a more honest smile, and softly admit, “No, I’m not seeing anyone. And since you asked so nicely without prying, I’ll tell you that there was no one then, either.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh come on, y/n, you definitely can tell me who it really was.”</p><p class="p1">“Mimi.”</p><p class="p1">She puts a sisterly arm around your shoulders, standing you up so you can discuss this in a proper way, not with you sprawled on the floor, “We’re not twenty anymore, we might’ve believed you then when you said it was none of those boys. But you’ve spent every day of every year together with them since. You practically lived with Mark, everybody thought you were already engaged!”</p><p class="p1">She’s not wrong, everyone from the mailman to Mrs. Na, who’d moved away to White Limit with Jaemin last fall, had speculated about you and Mark at some point.</p><p class="p1">“I’m not lying to you, I promise,” you mumble, as you start pinning flowers to her bodice to distract yourself.You’re not classifying the statement as a lie, because you’d convinced yourself then that said person only existed in your imagination. And reality has shown that to be true.</p><p class="p1">“I just don’t understand. Why would you say something like that if it wasn’t real?”</p><p class="p1">There’s that unavoidable question, the one that’s been bubbling behind the first, more obvious one. And now you don’t have Kyungsoo to save you like he’d done with Kun.</p><p class="p1">“You love Binnie, right?” you ask quietly, positioning a flower right over Mimi’s heart. “You would do anything for her?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, of course,” she confirms, fiercely protective of her Irish twin.</p><p class="p1">“Put yourself into my situation. You’re there, alone, she’s dying in your arms, you can literally feel it happening. She asks you to talk to take her mind off the fact that she’s about to experience her last moment on earth. What do you say?” It’s brutal but necessary, the scenario you’re placing her in. There’s a reason why very few people have the situational empathy to understand you, it’s because no one has ever considered this could happen to someone like them.</p><p class="p1">“I,” she starts out confidently, then it tapers, “I have no idea.”</p><p class="p1">“Exactly.” You lower yourself onto the couch, not emotionally prepared to ghost over this topic, but knowing you have to. “I spent so much of the time leading up to what happened talking to him about blossom ceremonies, the significance of what it means to be in love, his hopes and fears. He was always asking me for answers I never held. And every time, he would tell me he wanted me to be happy. So when J asked then, I thought about what would bring him comfort, and I told him.”</p><p class="p1">You’d spent a lot of idly days unpacking exactly why your mouth had blurted what it blurted in the heat of the moment. You’d tried to find some logical explanation, but had only come up with your brain instinctively going to the person who’d made you the happiest. Your fingers aimlessly twirl the pin in your hand, thinking of the boy's blood-stained smile, the very last one you were able to coax out of him with what you’d said. “That’s why it hurts me so much, that people are still curious about it. Because I only said it to comfort a boy I loved in his final, precious minutes.”</p><p class="p1">That’s the truth, the idea of marrying that person had once made you so, so happy. And you'd thought Jeno would want to know.</p><p class="p1">Mimi sniffles, tear tracks visible on her cheeks from her emotional response to your honesty, “I’m so sorry for asking.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t be. It’s a natural reaction to be curious. Hopefully now you might be a bit more mindful, though?” She is the least offensive of the bunch, but maybe now that you have an ally on your side, she can get some of the general public to calm their speculation.</p><p class="p1">She takes your hand and promises, “Of course!”</p><p class="p1">Shaking yourself out of the state she’s cast you into with her questioning, you take a few minutes to finish pinning the paper flowers up the longitude of her skirt. You shift a couple things here and there, making a mental note of where you might need to add some more flowers in. You twist her back around so she’s facing the mirror and ask, “Okay, what do you think about the way I’ve laid this design out?”</p><p class="p1">She gasps in surprise, clapping her hands immediately upon seeing her modified reflection. “Oh my gosh, y/n. I love it!”</p><p class="p1">You hadn’t expected this overwhelmingly positive response. “You do?”</p><p class="p1">She picks up the skirts in her hands, twirling back and forth to see the full extent of your work. It’s going to be a hefty amount of delicate sewing, the way you’ve designed it leaves little to no room for error. But if you get it done right, she’ll come out looking like a stunning princess.</p><p class="p1">“It’s going to be beautiful. I honestly might tear up again.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve never embroidered a dress before," you divulge, but you make sure to promise, "I’ll have it done by the party. It might be delivered to you that morning, but it’ll get done. Hopefully I’ll live up to the expectations.” You’ve made a dress once prior, one that’s hung up in the depths of your closet, but not something like this. You’re really, really going to have to push yourself to complete it.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, I have no doubt that you will. I’m so excited, I can’t wait to see the look on Hyunie’s face when he sees me in this.”</p><p class="p1"><em>I’m sure your dress is going to be beautiful.</em> You can only imagine what sort of look it’d be.</p><p class="p1">She reluctantly starts taking off the dress so you can hang it up on your mannequin. Should you pull out that peach dress to wear to the party? Would that be taboo? Beyond that, would it invoke too many memories to ever see the light of day again? There truly was nothing quite like putting that slip of silk on. It brings about too much possibility. You’ll leave that for another time, that’s a bit too much for now.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks, y/n. For this, and for what you told me,” she hugs you tightly, and her kind words are a heartfelt punctuation onto the moment of understanding you’d shared together.</p><p class="p1">Once she’s gone, you meander back to the couch, draping yourself over the edge by the window, and you pick up one of the picture frames displayed there. The colors have begun to fade slightly, the sun and time have wreaked their havoc on the drugstore paper, but the romanticism in the lingering memories is still the same.</p><p class="p1">You turn the frame, so Jeno’s twelve year old face is pointing in the direction of the mannequin and ask, “What do you think, kiddo? You like it?”</p><p class="p1">He’d never say a bad word against you, but he’d also loved everything you ever made. Especially the eagle tie he’s wearing in the family portrait you’re holding, the most beloved Christmas gift you’ve gotten. He would’ve liked the dress no matter what, would’ve insisted that you wear it instead of Mimi.</p><p class="p1">“I know it’s not a strawberry shirt like I promised, but I think it’ll turn out well.” Mimi had looked so deliriously happy at what you’d put together for her, at the images she was conjuring up in her mind of her boyfriend’s future reaction. If he is even a quarter as delighted as she was, it’ll turn out well. “Jaehyun loves her, and she loves him. I suppose it’s quite nice, that this will be my first thing back.”</p><p class="p1">You hope Jeno will forgive you for sewing for someone else first, but you haven’t forgotten your promise. “I’ll bring you something when I can. I love you,” you whisper. You press your lips to your fingers, touch them to his face on the photo, and decide that you’re not ready to start sewing tonight. Not yet.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Yuta stops your ascent up the stairs with a very subtle question, “Would it be cool if some people came over tonight?”</p><p class="p1">You don’t bother turning around when you clarify, “Does people mean people or <em>people</em>?” The former term describing a handful of people visiting like John or Jaehyun, the latter giving way to a huge crowd of your old squad bulldozing into your home.</p><p class="p1">“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, probably the second <em>people</em>,” he answers sheepishly.</p><p class="p1">“Yuta…”</p><p class="p1">“Please! You know how tiny my studio actually is.”</p><p class="p1">Even though Mark had the biggest house downtown, either house on the hill had become the go-to hangout spot back in the day. Now that everyone’s in the same city for the first time in a long time, it follows that Yuta would want to get the gang back together. And you know he’s suggested your house instead of Jaehyun’s to help you ease into it.</p><p class="p1">“Ugh, fine. But I’m probably not going to hang, and I reserve the right to shut down the party at any point in the night,” you concede, in a specific tone that lets him know he cannot push for you to join in.</p><p class="p1">Yuta shakes out his silver hair in victory, winking at you from the kitchen. “Deal.”</p><p class="p1">You have no problem with the people that you know gathering here, but you have no intentions to be seen by anyone tonight. You change into a pair of sweatpants, tie your hair back in a braid, and settle into your bed, propped up on your lone pillow, to begin a re-read of Wuthering Heights. You can hear everything that’s unfolding on the first floor, it’s not entirely soundproof up here, that’s enough of a proxy to the party for you.</p><p class="p1">After hearing commotion for thirty minutes, a thunderous voice that can only be John’s floats audibly up into your room, “Quick, before he gets here, what is everyone getting Jae for his birthday?”</p><p class="p1">“I was able to pull strings at the station and get him a signed copy of Delight.”</p><p class="p1">“I got him a Bats jersey.”</p><p class="p1">“Went with the usual Gucci bag.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n! Y/n!”</p><p class="p1">With a groan, you roll out of bed and stalk over to the door to exit your room at the call of your name. This is clearly a guys only thing, Doyoung, Haechan, Lucas, Kun, John, and Yuta are all sprawled over your couch, beers in hand, waving at you like drunken idiots when they see you on the landing of your stairs.</p><p class="p1">“What do you want!”</p><p class="p1">Johnny smiles at you innocently, like you’re an angel perched up above, “Do you have a birthday present for Jae?”</p><p class="p1">You freeze, hand clutching at the matte black hand railing at the question you should’ve expected. Do you go with the truth here, or the lie? “Not yet, no.” Which is the lie.</p><p class="p1">You, well, you’ve already gotten Jaehyun his birthday present.</p><p class="p1">But the winter baseball season is coming to a close, and beyond Taeil's best shot at one, there hadn’t actually been a no-hitter thrown. So, you also technically owe Jaehyun something that you’ve sewn. He’d bent the rules and declared you the winner to cheer you up, and you’re fine with that. But you’re also a woman of your word. You don’t know what sort of material item you could buy him as a gift, so maybe a sewn item will be a sufficient two for one fulfillment of his birthday present.</p><p class="p1">“What’s up, players?!”</p><p class="p1">An enthusiastic yelp from the door catches the men’s attention and they all look over in excitement to see, “Yo, Mark!”</p><p class="p1">Yup, that’s definitely Mark there at the door, with Ten in tow, a wholly interesting development for the night. If he’s here, that means he knew this was going down at your house and had no qualms about showing up. And Mark’s brought along Kyungsoo — who makes a beeline right to the stairs — which can only imply his text message from the other day had been fulfilled, and he’d actually fixed things.</p><p class="p1">“What’d you get Jae for his birthday?” John asks Mark as soon as they’ve hugged. “We were just talking about it.”</p><p class="p1">“Me,” Mark deadpans, and you press your left hand particularly hard into the railing, missing Kyungsoo strolling right into your room. No, no, Mark can’t do this here. You're saved by his expression changing into a cheeky smile, “Nah, I’m kidding. Dad and I bought him a nice suit from Pandora.”</p><p class="p1">“That was a good one, dude!” Johnny laughs at Mark’s apparent joke as your teeth grind themselves down into stubs out of stress. That had been way too close for your emotional comfort.</p><p class="p1">You blankly walk back into your room, nearly jolting when you hear Kyungsoo’s cool, “Something wrong?”</p><p class="p1">He’s sprawled on the armchair you keep on the corner, scrolling through something on his phone. Your loft room was the one place you never let your friends run rampant in, intending to keep it separated out from their foolery as a place of privacy. You’ll use that as your excuse for now, "Nothing. I usually don’t let my friends up here, but you’re not exactly a friend.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not?”</p><p class="p1">“You know what I mean.”</p><p class="p1">In summary, you’ve spent around two weeks of time together, but it is the external circumstances that bind you closer. However, it feels innately natural to have him beside you here in some capacity, even separated by the distance between the chair and your bed.</p><p class="p1">He puts his phone down after a few minutes of silence, tentatively beginning, “We, uh. We had a talk.”</p><p class="p1">“And?” you fight to keep the desperation out of your voice. “What happened?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo climbs out of his chair to crawl onto the space at the foot of your bed, to lie back and look at the ceiling in contemplation. “He’s definitely still upset, I think it’s going to take a lot for him to let it go.”</p><p class="p1">“We both really should’ve gone to see those counselors,” you wryly respond. You should’ve known better than to expect things could be patched up in one conversation between the two men.</p><p class="p1">He turns his head in surprise, “You didn’t?”</p><p class="p1">You’d dutifully sat through all your physical therapy and your doctors appointments, but adamantly refused to go to any of your scheduled counseling sessions. You weren’t, and still aren’t, at the point where you can freely recollect what’d happened to a third party. “Felt really weird to talk about, I don’t know. It might happen at some point," you acknowledge. You catch his obvious look of concern, then reassure him, “Don’t worry, I'm as okay as one could be, I guess.”</p><p class="p1">“Good,” he nods, then faces the ceiling again to continue his story, “But anyways, we sat down and I told him everything I remembered before I passed out. He seemed to get less mad… when I mentioned how I broke your hand.”</p><p class="p1">Your left hand gives an instinctive flex. “You told him that?”</p><p class="p1">“Was that supposed to be off limits?”</p><p class="p1">You shrug as your right hand comes to rub around the place where you’d had the plum bruise, the scar from where they’d put the plates in. “I don’t know, I suppose everyone heard me scream and I came home in a cast, but no one’s asked. Kinda got lost in the rest, I guess.” You flop down on your stomach so your head is close to his, so you can whisper what you say next, “Can I tell you something?”</p><p class="p1">He shifts to his side, so his nose is nearly brushing yours, the same position you’d had many conversations in back there. “Sure.”</p><p class="p1">“When I got back, and the doctor thought I was still under the tranquilizers he gave us, he told Mark’s dad he wasn’t sure if I could ever sew again.”</p><p class="p1">“What?” he gasps as he sits up, taking your hands in his. “But they look fine now.”</p><p class="p1">It doesn’t feel as dramatic to you now as it had when you’d overheard it, so it’s easy for you to frame it in a sterile way, “I mean, you didn’t break my dominant hand, and those cuts from the glass healed up pretty nicely, but you need both hands to make embroidery work. And I don’t know if the physical therapy helped.” You can pick things up, unscrew jar lids, do most everything with both hands, but more often than not your left hand goes completely stiff, unhelpful and immobile when you need it.</p><p class="p1">“You never tried?” he asks.</p><p class="p1">There were certain optics that surrounded even looking at your sewing kit that made it impossible for you to try, beyond your physical limitations. “No. That strawberry shirt was the last thing I ever sewed and now I somehow have to make a dress for my neighbor’s girlfriend.”</p><p class="p1">You really were incredibly dumb for being so confident in saying yes to Mimi that day. You should’ve stuck to the rule, should’ve stuck to <em>no personal requests</em>.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s hands close around yours completely, holding them in his lap as he tries to inject some humor, “If your sewing skills are even partially as legendary as my cooking skills, you should be beyond fine.” A small laugh bubbles out of your mouth, and he gently reassures you, “If for some reason… you know… weren’t they your friends at some point? They should understand.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a soft knock on the door, interrupting your contemplation of his words, and you get up off the bed to see who it is. Then, a voice comes in through the still closed door, “Y/n, can I come in?”</p><p class="p1">You open it a crack to see Jaehyun there at the top of your stairs. “No, and you know that.”</p><p class="p1">You have your fingers firmly around the doorknob, so he doesn’t have any leverage to try and pull it open. But when your grasp wavers for a second, that gives him enough leeway to peer through and see who’s inside. His mouth sets in displeasure as he grumbles, “He’s in there.”</p><p class="p1">You lift a defiant eyebrow. “And?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s nose wrinkles in complete displeasure as he decides whether to argue or to back down, ultimately deciding on the latter, “Never mind. It wasn’t important anyways.”</p><p class="p1">He’s about to go back down the stairs, and you’re about to return back to your room when there’s a very loud, “Yo, dude! Come down here for a second.”</p><p class="p1">It’s Johnny, as expected, gesturing you down with a beer in his hand. You and Jaehyun exchange glances, then you go down the stairs one after the other, to meet up with Johnny and Yuta by the sink. You avoid giving John the opportunity to put his arm around you by standing on the opposite side of the group.</p><p class="p1">You cross your arms over your chest, then ask, “What’s up?”</p><p class="p1">“Are we going to go out again?” He’s so drunk he practically shouts it at you, before leaning across the circle and not at all quietly whispering into your ear, “I really want to kiss you again, for real this time.”</p><p class="p1">The skin of your cheeks light fully ablaze at John’s boldly lascivious words. Jaehyun chokes on the sip of beer he’d just taken, knowing he was the one who’d thrown a wrench in that happening the other night. Hopefully he wasn’t aware of the instance he didn’t interrupt, the memory of John's mouth pressing against yours is searing white hot into your vision right now.</p><p class="p1">Yuta raises a hand and interjects, “Hold your horses, cowboy, it’s my turn next.”</p><p class="p1">You have a fairly good impression of what this is about to devolve into, the reason in the first place there’s been so much speculation surrounding you. Here we go.</p><p class="p1">The two bodyguards go toe to toe in the middle of the kitchen as John argues, “That is no fair and you know it, you only found out we went on a date and decided to throw your hat in the ring. Where was that energy when you were seeing S whoever?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s face goes the same color as his maroon pullover, but he sidesteps the mention of the woman he’s been involved with before to retort, “She already agreed, so it’s definitely fair. Jae, what do you think?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun splutters over the frothy alcohol once more, this time dripping it all over his sweater by accident. “I, what?”</p><p class="p1">“Who y/n should go on a date with.”</p><p class="p1">If you’d felt awkward at John singling you out, then John and Yuta dancing through the same argument, you feel unrefined and exposed now, in the middle of this triangle, watching Jaehyun struggle to come up with what he wants to say. He’s not the authority on your personal life, but you are keenly curious to find out what his thoughts are on the matter.</p><p class="p1">“Come on, guys, you know it’s whatever she wants,” he hums faintly, looking down at his grey socks. “Don’t be assholes about it.”</p><p class="p1">His thoughts are so oxymoronically perfect yet disappointing that you wish you had a beer in hand to gulp down. So you wouldn’t have to be this sober and aware, feeling the weight of Jaehyun’s returning stare when you spell out your logic, “It’s not a slight against you, John, but I did already agree to dinner.”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, okay,” Johnny nods his head in acceptance, recognizing again that your feelings are priority over any sort of light bro feud they might hold. That becomes evident in the way they start to bicker about something completely different while they down their beers, provoking grins lighting up their faces.</p><p class="p1">You spot a pair of different men by your window, heads bent together as they talk. You meet eyes with Kyungsoo, who gives you an encouraging smile and drifts away to go sit on the couch by Doyoung. You remove yourself from the group to join the lone man gazing out your window, into the field of flowers mirroring the starry night sky.</p><p class="p1">“I was always so jealous you got to live here,” Mark murmurs.</p><p class="p1">You’re surprised both that he’s talking to you and that he was ever jealous of this place when he lived in that beautiful mansion-castle. “You were?”</p><p class="p1">He shrugs with a tiny smile, “Well, yeah, as a kid it was because I thought it was so cool to get away from Dad and the house workers.” Then, a large sigh hefts its way out of his mouth, “But now it’s because it feels like you’re away from prying eyes up here, safe and cozy with only your close friends.”</p><p class="p1">You’d once thought you and Mark were twin souls born in different bodies. How is it possible that he’s so elegantly put into words the feeling you get when you’re up here. How is it possible that he knows how protected you feel here, how being up here allows you to fantasize about what a normal life would be like. Twin souls is the only explanation.</p><p class="p1">The smallest patch of his pinky brushes yours, and you nearly take a dramatic tumble at what he says next, “I’m sorry about your hand. Is that why you haven’t been able to look at a sewing needle?”</p><p class="p1"><em>I can’t even look at a sewing needle without wanting to burst into tears. </em>Why’d he have to make a blatant reference to your letter, when things had been going so swimmingly?</p><p class="p1">“That, among other things,” you tilt your head down to your windowsill, to the same picture frame encasing the family portrait.</p><p class="p1">You’ve danced around this with everyone else, using your hand or other circumstances as the truth. But he’ll know that the reason you haven’t sewn is because the last thing you made was for Jeno, and you can’t fathom being in a world where you have to move on from that.</p><p class="p1">“If you’re scared to, don’t be. It’s what we…” Mark catches himself and edits his phrasing, but you know it’s coming right from him, “he would want you to do. And if you can’t, we just have to cherish what we were lucky enough to get from you.”</p><p class="p1">His pinky ghosts by yours one more time, and he leaves to join Kyungsoo on the couch. The rip in the fabric of you two is not totally fixed, but you’re one stitch in. You might get there.</p><p class="p1">But not now, because there is something else you must do.</p><p class="p1">Running back up the stairs and locking your bedroom door behind you so no one can follow, you end up on the floor in front of the bottom shelf of your dresser. You push away errant socks and old, holey sweaters to pull out the small kit of clear plastic that you’d stowed in there. You don’t, no, can’t wait for your mind to tell you otherwise, so you hurry to pull out a square of linen from your fabric boxes and lay everything out in front of you.</p><p class="p1">It’s like you’re seventeen again, sewing for the first time, sitting in your home as you contemplate the Vice Premier’s ascension jacket, only with that feeling multiplied by the inferno of the sun and the depth of the sea. When you grab a needle out of the box that’s already threaded, the nicely healed scars on your right hand don’t protest with the motion. And now, here comes the moment of truth.</p><p class="p1">You take your left hand, very, very impossibly slowly, and curl it around the scrap of fabric to hold it in the particular way you do when you sew. You wait, wait, and keep waiting, for an embarrassingly long length of time. But then… nothing. No cramps, no protests, no complete collapse from the end of your limb. Is this even possible? You’re only holding the fabric, you’re not actually doing anything, that could surely change.</p><p class="p1">Breathe, y/n, think about what mom taught you, let your eyes do the magic, not your hands. You only need your eyes.</p><p class="p1">You lift up the linen, and you start to sew.</p><p class="p1">Up and down, up and down, you weave the needle through the sturdy fabric in an uncomplicated manner. It’s nothing elaborate, the most basic of shapes starting to make itself known on the square. This is the kind of stitching that would usually take you less than five minutes to complete, but you’re not sure it doesn’t take you an hour with the amount of care you put into it.  You complete the outline of a rectangle, then shift your hands so you can add more onto it, lip gnawing between your teeth as you try to focus. You move slowly, deliberately, at a pace that does not aggravate your hands. If you can get through this, you can surely speed it up the process when you work to complete Mimi’s dress, but you need to confirm that this is something you can get through first. </p><p class="p1">You’re heaving with exhaustion by the time you put the needle down, satisfied with the point you’ve gotten to. But you’ve never, ever reached the pinnacle of pride like you have in this moment, as you stare down at what you’ve created. It’s not the flamboyantly recognizable tulip jackets, or the understated and elegant animal ties, or even the snazzy, chic strawberry tee, it’s none of that.</p><p class="p1">It’s only the outline of a tiny, brown house.</p><p class="p1">This seemingly should be a dramatic moment, that you’re sewing again. Even more so that you’ve completed something with no semblance of pain from your once mangled hands. But you know it won’t hit you until you have the finished product in your grasp. Because then it’ll be tangible, then you’ll be able to see the direct meaning in what you’ve done.</p><p class="p1">So, just like that very first time, you stay up all night to finish what you’ve started.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u for reading! lol @ this word count when we're not even halfway through yet.</p><p>also ao3 crashed when i was editing this chapter so i had to edit it TWICE please validate me lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. lonicera tellmanniana</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kyungsoo is soaked through with sincerity when he gently suggests, “I don’t know. Think about Jeno. You told him who it was, right? What would he want you to do?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is one of my favorite chapters! :)</p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You wish scientists would hurry up and make a time machine, because you really want to go back to the past and find out what teenaged y/n would think when she hears that she’ll end up on a date with ice prince Yuta Nakamoto in the future. She’d probably pass out, though the you of now is taking a much more controlled approach.</p><p class="p1">“Well, this has been nice,” Yuta happily crows, with a full mouth, as you get up out of the booth after he paid. "I'm having a great time, personally."</p><p class="p1">“Are you just puffing yourself up?” you joke, but it doesn’t quite land, causing his brow to furrow in worry.</p><p class="p1">“You don’t like Bomb’s Away? I thought this would be perfect.”</p><p class="p1">He’d called ahead to get a table in the back of the back, in an area where only the pryingest of prying eyes would see the pair of you. You’d engorged yourself on a variety of homemade, greasy diner foods, laughed your head off with him at nonsense topics. He’s really gone above and beyond for the night, and you want to convey your appreciation.</p><p class="p1">You nudge him with your shoulder and flash an apologetic smile, “I mostly thought it was funny you’d say that with your mouth stuffed full of to-go mints. You’re right, this has been really nice.”</p><p class="p1">He passes you your coat, then hesitates before he gives over your scarf, “Are you sure you need that? It’s warmer than usual outside.”</p><p class="p1">You tense up at his polite offer. Had he not recognized your eternal use of long sleeves, turtlenecks, scarves, garments that would cover up the expanse of your torso? If you wear a shirt that has a collar that dips just a millimeter too low, the angry, puckered, red part of your skin would surely be visible. The doctors still have not been able to figure out why your hands and legs had healed so nicely from your cuts while your back had stayed so ragged. Kyungsoo’s skin is nicely unblemished, too.</p><p class="p1">“I’m… cold,” you bluster, taking it from him and wrapping it around your neck. “It’s fine.”</p><p class="p1">You two stroll through downtown, taking in the obnoxious February decor of cupids and lace, hands brushing but not quite comfortable actually removing that boundary. But if he still won’t cross the line into physical intimacy, he certainly knows how to ask the personal questions, “How are you feeling about getting away from the house more than usual? I’m really proud of you for that.”</p><p class="p1">“It feels good, to be honest. Like I’m obviously not at the point where I’m totally okay, but little pieces of normalcy help a lot.”</p><p class="p1">“Things like sewing again, going on dates, having a boyfriend?”</p><p class="p1">“Yuta.”</p><p class="p1">He holds up his hands in self-defense at his comment. “I didn’t mean me! It’s like Jae said, whatever you want.”</p><p class="p1"><em>It’s whatever she wants. </em>Is it?</p><p class="p1">“Very slick, dude,” you punch him in the arm lightly, then look up to see someone you know across the intersection. Lifting your hand up to wave very brazenly, you yell at the top of your lungs, “Kyungsoo!”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo stops strolling along, and takes out his AirPods at the sound of his name. He waves back with enthusiasm once he spots you on the other sidewalk and immediately jogs over instead of continuing on the path he was taking, hair flying in the wind. He greets you both, “Hey guys, how’s it going?”</p><p class="p1">You hop to where he’s standing and throw an arm around his neck, pulling his head close to you so you can whisper in his ear, “Guess what, guess what? I made it happen.”</p><p class="p1">He pulls back, saucer eyes expanding into dinner plates with his shock. Your phrasing had been subtle, but he’s picked up on it. You made sewing happen, you’ve done it. “What?! You did?! That’s amazing.”</p><p class="p1">“Want to come over and see what I have so far?” You extend the invitation, not to show off what you’d worked on the night of your return to sewing, but the progress you’ve already made since starting on Mimi’s dress this morning. The three of you can drink wine and they can get to know each other better while you work—,</p><p class="p1">“Maybe some other time, man?”</p><p class="p1">At the unexpected interruption, you and Kyungsoo both glance at Yuta, then at each other, before Kyungsoo shrugs, “Aren’t you guys heading up that way now? I wouldn’t mind the walk.”</p><p class="p1">“Maybe some other time, man,” Yuta repeats, and this time it’s not a question. Plus the very important, “We’re on a date,” is pigeonholed in, as he very obviously grabs your hand. Wait, so this is the compulsion Yuta requires to get into your personal space? Feeling quote threatened by a nother man that he doesn't even have to worry about? You find it kind of hilarious, actually, since Yuta is not the first one of your friends you'd call a jealous person.</p><p class="p1">“Oooh, my bad,” Kyungsoo whistles with a wink towards your male companion. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt that. Have fun on your date then.”</p><p class="p1">He strolls away, quite carefree despite being denied by your friend, and you pull your hand out of Yuta’s grasp with a harsh, “What was that!”</p><p class="p1">Yuta feigns complete innocence. “Nothing!”</p><p class="p1">“Come on, you’ve been so bothered by him from the first time you met," you prod. He’d lived up to the icy moniker of his nickname in every direct interaction he’d had with Kyungsoo, bristling and domineering in his protection of you. This is why you wanted both of them to come over. Yuta has been an integral part of your life for six years now, and you’re sure at this point Kyungsoo will have to be an addendum to that equation. It really would be nice if you could all get along.</p><p class="p1">It bursts out of Yuta with earnest alarm, “I don’t know him, okay! I don’t know him, and the idea of you being around strangers scares the fuck out of me.” Ah. All of that had been in the interest of your safety, you can see that now. You'd been snatched out of the city by a trio of strangers, and now to him, every instance that follows is shrouded with deep-seated suspicion.</p><p class="p1">“Kyungsoo, um,” you quietly give him the truth he deserves in return, “he was there.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta's jaw goes slack when he realizes that you hadn’t randomly become attached to Mark’s friend out of the blue. “Oh, I had no clue.”</p><p class="p1">“So like, he actually knows all of it. I’m sorry if it came across like I didn’t care about you.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta paces on the sidewalk, hand going through his silver bangs, before he exhales, “God, I’m sorry for acting so weird.” His steps increase in speed, back and forth, back and forth across the narrow square of concrete as he mutters on, “I thought if things went back to the way they used to be, me and John fighting over who would get to flirt with you, maybe it’d help you.”</p><p class="p1">It’s an unconventional strategy, one you understand the logic behind, but it’s clearly making him uncomfortable to a degree if his repetitive motions are any indication. Yuta is not a pacer, if he's nervous he'll conceal it within himself, even if it's to bursting. For him to be showing this habit so openly indicates something is off. You put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, “Dude, no worries at all, I totally appreciate it. Are <em>you</em> okay though?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know. Tonight was nice, but honestly kind of weird to me," he admits.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah?” Now that he’s said it himself, you pinpoint what you’ve been holding in, that the whole night had felt almost achingly platonic to you. He'd laughed at the right times and said all the right things, had turned his handsome gaze upon you in a manner that should've had you swooning. But the whole time you sat there and simply relished in the fact that it was nice to be out with a friend again. </p><p class="p1">“Like, you know how big of a secret crush I used to have on you, how much you mean to me. It has been a huge comfort to me knowing I could look out for you this past year,” he begins. You share those exact feelings. It’s been immensely steadying for you, to have him by your side, to know that you could talk to him about anything you were feeling, that you could cry and it would never bother him. His nose twitches with discomfort, then he confesses, “I thought it’d feel right to go out with you, but it made me realize I was, no am, very hung up on someone.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta Nakamoto, man of surprises.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my gosh. Who?” you ask with no reservation, excited that it’s finally your turn to nosily gasp about someone else’s life.</p><p class="p1">He’s spent so much time with you as of late you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him out with a woman. Maybe since Seola at Changmin’s blossom ceremony. Is she the one who would make his blue hyacinth bloom? Nothing would delight you more than to know he'd been talking to her this whole time, that he hadn't been bogged down with the emotional labor of taking care of you.</p><p class="p1">Yuta purses his lips, then answers, “Just a girl.” It is obvious to you he doesn’t want to divulge any more, and it’d be a return favor for you not to press any further. After all, he never had with you. His foot shuffles against the sidewalk as he navigates his thoughts, “I don’t want to sound dramatic, and don’t want to blame you at all, obviously. But with everything that’s been going on, I really haven’t had time to sit down and figure my shit out. It's all stupid and confusing.”</p><p class="p1">You squeeze at his arm, then tuck your chin into the crook of his neck, in total agreement, “You don’t have to explain yourself, but I get it. Not a lot of breathing room around these parts as of late.” You wonder if that day of reckoning will come for you, when it you’re no longer slogging around in an emotional pit of strangulating sentimentality.</p><p class="p1">“This is going to be a weird question, but would it be okay for me to keep acting in the usual way?” he asks quietly, before tacking on, “It’s the only thing that feels normal to me right now.”</p><p class="p1">You’d let him do whatever he wanted if it made him happy. If he wanted to drop you as a client to find someone less messy or move back to Japan with his family or become a farmer in the middle of nowhere, you’d leave him to do what his heart desired. And if what he desires is the days of carefree joy that you’d shared as teens, to wink at you and shower you with his lazy, undercover flirting, well, how could you say no to that? Because he'd been right, each time he butts heads with John in the good-humored bickering they've always engaged in, it's as if you spliced one string of your old, happy heart, into the sullen, shriveled one that resides in your chest currently.</p><p class="p1">“Of course," you accept with no hesitation, "I’m going to go home and continue working on Mimi’s dress. Want to turn the game on and stay the night?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta takes your hand, pleased you’ve agreed, and begins strolling you down the road towards the hill. He adds onto your suggested plan, “I’ll get the couch blankets when we get back, since we’re still not allowed up in your room.”</p><p class="p1">“I have a guest room, you know,” you poke at him, thankful you’ve moved past the awkwardness into the same heartwarming comfort you always seem to share with him.</p><p class="p1">“It’s the couch or die, princess. Whatever fool ends up in your room first is a lucky bastard, I hope you know that,” Yuta teases back. He pulls you into his side so you can finish the walk off in the furnace of a shared embrace of understanding. You hope he knows you're planning on bringing up the mystery girl the very next chance you get. Whoever she is, she's the lucky one in all of this - Yuta's steady, sincere affections are a privilege that only few are worthy to receive. And you're certainly not.  </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’re not entirely sure why it takes you until the ninth inning to muster up the courage to do this, but it does. You can’t recall a single pitch that goes by in the first eight innings, a single hit, anything, too absorbed in the various what-if scenarios that could unfold were you to follow through with what you want to do. You don’t know when you’ve become the type of person to get so caught up in these kinds of matters, but you're nervous, okay? You're really fucking nervous. However, when the first pitch of the last inning fires across the plate, you know you have to get your shit together.You stride out of your house, give a head nod to the guard stood watch outside your door, then run across the way and bang your fist against the door of your neighbor’s house.</p><p class="p1">You totally clam up when Jaehyun opens the door, hair damp from a shower, in a plain white shirt and plaid pants. <em>Come on, y/n, this is normal, be confident and just say it! </em>Your quiet voice does you no favors when you mumble, “It is the last game of the winter ball season, and I have missed however many Sunday dinners. So I am here.”</p><p class="p1">Nowhere in the words you say are the specific two that you’d come over here intending to say, <em>I’m</em> and <em>sorry.</em> But the little smile that does itself up on Jaehyun’s mouth implies his understanding.He leans against the frame of his door, not quite inviting you in, but not kicking you out either. He’s probably going to make you pay for the times you’ve blown him off. “Finally got your act together, huh.”</p><p class="p1">“Yo!”</p><p class="p1">You turn on his front step to see a Neozone U hoodie coming up the way, concealing the fluff of blonde hair you know is underneath. You offer up a small wave, “Mark, hi.”</p><p class="p1">Mark spots you and Jaehyun there together, already engrossed in a conversation, and stops in his tracks, the nervous stutter falling out, “Oh, uh. I’ll come back some other time.”</p><p class="p1">“No!” you call as he starts to backtrack, causing him to halt in motion again. He looks back over his shoulder as you shyly say, “You, uh, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.” You glance back at Jaehyun, Jaehyun who just wants to hang with his best friend but does not have the understanding as to why Mark might not want to in return. You tap his arm lightly as you make an incredible concession, “There’s no rule that says there can’t be visitors during Sunday dinner, right Jae?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun spreads his hands wide in a beckoning call to Mark and practically shouts, “Of course not! Come here, Marco!”</p><p class="p1">They both hoot and holler like goofy hooligans when they leap into each other’s arms. It really shouldn’t have happened this way, they shouldn’t have been parted like this. Thank goodness Mark had the sense to come back, at least for these few weeks. The two of them skip like little girls into the house, and you trail behind them, closing the door and leisurely removing your shoes so they can have their private bonding time.</p><p class="p1">“I haven’t seen you much since you got here, what’s up!” Jaehyun is huffing with excitement as he he rifles through his beers to find Mark’s favorite, tossing it to him with skilled ease as Mark hoists himself into his preferred loveseat.</p><p class="p1">“It’s been a weird whirlwind of seeing old friends and laying low at home,” Mark pulls a <em>you know what kind of bullshit I’m talking</em> about face, then takes a long sip of his beer. “I’ve been meaning to come up and hang with you alone, but only was able to now.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve been meaning to ask, why did you decide to come back?” Jaehyun nonchalantly asks as he slips into his usual spot on the couch, and clinks his glass against the other boy’s. “Just because your pops was?”</p><p class="p1">Mark had been appropriately cool when this subject had been touched upon the night of the hangout at your house, only brushing it off with his sarcastic, caustic wit. But now, he can’t hold himself back, shooting you an extremely loaded look from behind Jaehyun’s head when he bends to scoop up the remote control. Is he really going to tell, right here, right now? After you’ve painstakingly crafted this together in a manner which you’d never have to suffer the consequences for?</p><p class="p1">Your fingers are on their trajectory to tweak at your palm when you hear Mark’s casual answer,“Yeah, something like that. I’m sure you felt like living in Pandora got exhausting sometimes.”</p><p class="p1">You have to sink into a kitchen chair with the lightheadedness that comes, that Mark has pushed you to the brink and yanked you back yet again. That was the risk you took when you wrote him, and it’s too late for you to have any regrets about it now.</p><p class="p1">You focus in on the final half of the inning as Mark and Jaehyun continue to chat back and forth, Jaehyun reminiscing about the past next, “Oh, you’re so right. I wanted to come home all the time in school.”</p><p class="p1">“Out of the lion’s den into another, right?”</p><p class="p1">“You know it, I should’ve moved up here the minute I bought the house.”</p><p class="p1">How would it have been if he’d permanently relocated to his house at an earlier time? Would you have spent every day together during his school breaks like you’d done once he was a full time resident of your secluded neighborhood? Would you have started the Sunday tradition of having dinner without these external circumstances? Would you have danced in your kitchen to a slowly crooning Baekhyun instead of skipping over those particularly melancholy tracks? Would any of this be different, anything at all?</p><p class="p1">“Catch it, catch it, catch it!” Mark yelps out of nowhere, and you glance back up to see the ball flying out to the warning track. All three of you stand up out of habit, like the spectators at the stadium do when it’s the final out, and you nervously suck in a breath as you await the outcome of the match.</p><p class="p1">V Kim takes two large, striding leaps, and catches the ball neatly in his glove.</p><p class="p1">“Yes! We won!” Jaehyun hollers as Mark goes absolutely nuts for the Bats’s final victory of the year, then he leaps backward off the couch. He runs straight to you, scooping you up into his arms and twirling you around like you’re a floating petal on the wind, and once you’re set back down, he’s already blithering on in excitement, “That means we both owe each other.”</p><p class="p1">Mark watches you both with interest, “What are you guys talking about?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun still has his hands firmly around your waist when he twists his neck back to answer Mark, thoroughly content, “Yo, I told you! We hang out every Sunday, watch baseball or cook, whatever she’s feeling up to. At the start of winter season, we made a bet. If the Bats threw a no-hitter this year, I’d have to sew her something, and if they’d didn’t, she would have to sew me something.” He pulls you in even closer, in a manner that forces you to turn your head so you don’t get overwhelmed by him, then he shakes you teasingly, “I won on a technicality, but thought I’d try my hand at making something, right?” Right. He’d been so desperate to cheer you up that day you’d gotten ambushed by reporters that he’d promised to do the one thing he was bad at in an effort to make you happy.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, so you’re actually sewing again?” Mark carefully asks, eyes flicking down to your fingers spread out on Jaehyun’s back. “The hand thing is good?”</p><p class="p1">You grimace and let your arms fall to your sides, which makes Mark think you’re implying something else. At his look of worry, you quickly nod your head and amend, “It’s good.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s entire upper body deflates with the weight of released tension he’d been holding in, and a genuine smile turns up his lips. You feel the sunflower of a matching grin make its way onto your mouth, having to match his joy with your own.</p><p class="p1">“That’s great,” he murmurs happily, before his phone goes off in a loud mishmash of Tupac. He glances at the caller id, muttering a, “Hold up, it’s Dad,” then rushes off into Jaehyun’s bathroom to answer it. You watch him go, dumbly entranced with your rising levels of glee due to his delight on your behalf. That was too much like the old Mark to ignore, when you'd been overjoyed by each and every little thing that'd happened in the other's life.</p><p class="p1">Out of nowhere, you hear a very haggard, “What hand thing?” from behind you. Holy shit, you should not turn back around if you know what is good for you. Apparently you don’t know what’s good for you, because you turn your head a smidgeon to your right and Jaehyun’s displeased stare is immediate and looming in your periphery. He clears his throat and his voice goes even deeper when he repeats, “Y/n, what hand thing?”</p><p class="p1">There your fingers go, pinching and pinching at your palm, as if you’re trying to give yourself away. You speak to his oven because you can’t speak to him, “You know that I came back with a cast, you were the first one who signed it.”</p><p class="p1">You even remember what it’d said — your initials plus his, and <em>hill houses forever</em>.</p><p class="p1">He walks around to your front, knowing you won’t turn back to face him, forcing you to look him right in the eye. “Yeah, but you never told me why you had to have one.”</p><p class="p1">He’s seen the worst of the worst of your injuries, every scar save one, each bruise that faded into yellow, each red patch that dissolved back into your skin tone. But it’d been too uncouth, even for him, to ask for the specifics behind them. He’d seen them all make their way onto your skin through his TV, but not this particular one.</p><p class="p1">Your wrist twists within your own grasp, evoking the burning feel of the metal there, how you’d thought you burst your forearm with how hard you’d tugged at that chain. You tilt your head down, so only the tip of his pant leg is visible, and begin your tale, “That last day, when I woke up, I was chained to the ground instead of tied up with rope as I had been the rest of the week. I had to break my hand to get it out of the cuff and get to the kid. Basically shattered every bone in my palm, and a bunch of my knuckles.”</p><p class="p1">You’re reliving it all, the horrific feel of Kyungsoo rocketing his heel into your palm, the liquefaction of the bones there, how you’d then had to shove it through a tiny orifice to free yourself. Your body is primed enough to know not to cry in front of him, but there’s no preventing the tremulous shake of your final sentence, “My doctor wasn’t sure if I’d ever sew again.”</p><p class="p1">There’s abject and crushing silence from the other half of the room. You’re prepared to look up and see Jaehyun vomiting with the grotesque details of your story. But when you hazard a glance his way, that is not what you get, at all. What you get is clusters of diamond dewdrops clinging to long eyelashes, a rhinestone sheen obscuring pretty amber eyes, Jaehyun blinking and sending his crystalline tears cascading all over his handsome face.</p><p class="p1">His voice cracks with wretched grief, “I never would’ve made that bet if I’d known.”</p><p class="p1">You react in the only way you can, a tight smile and a reassuring statement filled with straightforward indifference and professionalism, “It’s fine, I made it happen. The dress will be fine, there’s nothing to be worried about.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s not about the dress,” he laments, blinking again and sending another whirlwind of tears into the craters of his dimpled cheeks.</p><p class="p1">You have to look away once more, the picture of his flawless agitation too much for you to take in, then firmly state, “You don’t have to pretend you’re not worried. It’s halfway there, it’ll be done in time.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n,” he whispers, each syllable of your name coming out in a haunting, hypnotizing musical note. “It’s not about the dress.”</p><p class="p1">Then, his hand is encasing yours within the borders of its sanctuary, the staggering warmth of his fingers searing right through your skin, into the healed bones inside. His thumb traces a lazy, aimless path across the expanse of your palm, meandering by your fate line, and the fresh scab from when you’d accidentally cut yourself in your fear of the reporters. Carefully, like your hand is the most precious item he’s ever come across, timeless and invaluable, Jaehyun cradles it in both his hands and lifts it to his mouth to press his lips against the very center of your palm.</p><p class="p1">You can’t help but think you should’ve skipped the cast and gone straight to this method of healing.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve got to run. Let’s do this again before I leave?” Mark is your unwitting savior by walking in at that exact moment, forcing Jaehyun to drop your hand and rescuing you from the nefarious, tempting intentions your mind was about to delve into. The whirlwind of sensations sends you back into reality — you’d only come over to catch the end of the game, you really should be getting back and not dawdling in this dangerous way.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve got to go too, need to do more work on the dress tonight,” you bluster, not even bothering to say bye to either man before you’re rushing to put your shoes on and get the hell out of there.</p><p class="p1">You need to keep yourself focused on your task at hand, so instead of hanging around in the entryway of your home rewinding back through that interaction, you head right to your room to get working on your embroidery. You need a couple extra spools of pink thread to get the rest of the bodice completely done, so you head to the same spare sock drawer you keep your supplies in first. You’re rummaging around for the box of spools when your hand comes into contact with a slip of paper.</p><p class="p1">But it’s not just a slip of paper you pull out. What you retrieve from the depths of inattention is an old, yellowed envelope, which causes you to literally fall back with a thud.</p><p class="p1">You haven’t seen this in, well, in seven years, since you’d moved in here and tossed this away for storage without a care. You hadn’t needed it that night when you’d so eagerly sprinted to your computer, the database had told you everything you wanted to know without physically having this with you. With only one look at this nostalgic artifact, an incessant idea is itching its way into your brain, taunting you, tempting you, daring you, forcing you into doing something you’d never thought you’d have the heart to do.</p><p class="p1">This idea you have, one that could conjure pure bliss or invite perilous doom, requires white thread, not pink. It’s a quick couple stitches, your hands are finally cooperating at the speed necessary to speed through it and not exacerbate your pulsating heartbeats. One criss cross here, another there, a galaxy of white thread spilling its way out into your hands.</p><p class="p1">When you set about your work on Mimi’s dress for that night, you do so under the watch of a new package resting on top of your dresser, fondly cloaked in the bland parchment paper from your kitchen, tied up with a scrap of green yarn.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’re sure the Mercedes logo is going to be permanently tattooed on the inside of your hand with how hard you’re gripping the handle of the door. You’ve been out in the city more times than you can count in the past month and a half, more times than the whole past year combined. You even told Yuta you felt okay going out in public. Yet, you don’t know why this particular tasks feels so daunting.</p><p class="p1">“Do you want me to come inside?” Yuta’s inquiry breaks through your mask of silence.</p><p class="p1">It’s a dress shop, you’re not going to be attacked there. It’d be too embarrassing if you showed your face in there with Yuta, to have him there, watching as you try on dresses. You steel yourself, then shake your head. “No, I’m going to pick a dress and go. If there’s anything to fix I’ll do it myself, I need to get this done because I have two days left.”</p><p class="p1">You’d thought long and hard about wearing that peach dress you’d made for Changmin’s blossom ceremony, knowing that you haven't loved an article of clothing in quite the same way since. But you'd ultimately decided it would invite the same host of unwelcome eyes and probing questions that the guys had been worried about back then. However, by the time you’d made up your mind, it’d been too late to plan to make something else.</p><p class="p1">“You really waited until the last minute, huh?” Yuta teases, and that spurs you to get out of the car.</p><p class="p1">“Shut up,” you grumble, then slam the door in his face.</p><p class="p1">You can do this, y/n, it’s just clothes. It’s just clothes.</p><p class="p1">The inside of the shop is as dazzlingly hued as a field of flowers, beautiful gowns in all shapes and sizes draped over the racks. You’ve never been in this particular boutique, most of your clothes had previously been purchased by Mark’s father for you, and you almost regret it. You would’ve found a lot of inspiration amongst the dresses here.</p><p class="p1">“Hello, welcome,” a saleswoman greets you, hand flying to cover her mouth when she sees that it’s you. “Oh, my.”</p><p class="p1">You incline your head in greeting. “Hello.”</p><p class="p1">The woman, whose name tag tells you her name is Dara, bows deeply in return, “Wow, it’s an honor. Is there something I can help you with?”</p><p class="p1">“I need a dress for the party on Saturday,” you tell her, wanting to make this as easy for her as possible. “But don’t worry if it doesn’t fit, I can do the alterations myself.”</p><p class="p1">“Of course, ma’am,” she gestures for you to follow her before she compliments you, “You’re probably the best suited for that in the city, anyways.” You can’t help the small twang of pride, that that legend hadn’t died. “Anything here that catches your eye?”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, I don’t know.” You give the garments a once over to see if you can make your decision quickly, and spot a mannequin showing off a maroon dress with a dramatic, draping open back. You gulp nervously, “Do you have anything with a high back?”</p><p class="p1">Dara’s lips purse as she thinks, “Hmm, don’t like to show that off?”</p><p class="p1">You hope she doesn’t catch your ill-concealed flinch as the phantom pain of your twisting spine comes roaring back, how the hot glint of the metal had carved you apart in one sturdy blow. “Not really.”</p><p class="p1">She flits back and forth between the rows and rows of dresses, plucking out an armful of cheerfully bright ones and passing them off to you, “These would be your best shot.” She brings you to one of the dressing rooms and it’s like Dara’s pushing you into a pool filled with sharks when she nudges you inside and pulls the drapes closed behind you.</p><p class="p1">Seriously, this should not be a daunting task.</p><p class="p1">You can only go through this in a practical, no-nonsense way. No fantasies, no letting your imagination run wild, no indulging yourself. You hang up the dresses one by one, eliminating them as you go. The red is too eye-catching, and you don’t want to go with the sapphire because you’d match Yuta too closely. The back of the silver gown will leave more than half of your scar peeking through, and pink, well, there’s already been a hold placed on that color.</p><p class="p1">That means the dress you’re left with is a golden column of silk and chiffon, sheer panels tastefully placed throughout the body of the gown. You’re so focused on being objective and impartial that you don’t even allow yourself to truly contemplate how well the dress fits you. The sheer chiffon at the collar highlights the elegant slope of your neck, the drape of the chiffon overskirt is a cloud of loveliness around your legs, you in this dress is nothing short of a goddess borne out of liquid twenty four carat gold.</p><p class="p1">It’s a dress that fits, and nothing else. You’re satisfied. In fact, you’re pleased enough with your first-attempt success that you’re about to take the dress off and pay for it when you hear a conversation erupt on the outside of the fitting room.</p><p class="p1">“I’m mad we haven’t seen what your dress is like!”</p><p class="p1">You’re sure every girl in Neozone has commissioned a dress from one of the designer boutiques for Jaehyun’s birthday. It makes sense that some of the orders are probably delayed, probably why this annoyance-filled conversation is taking place.</p><p class="p1">“I know! We’ve been dying to see it. You seriously haven’t heard anything?”</p><p class="p1">“Nothing. Jaehyun doesn’t even know what’s up with it, and he sees her every Sunday.”</p><p class="p1">Your hand stills from where it’s clasped around the zipper of the dress. Your other hand pulls back the curtain a fraction of an inch, and there Mimi is, on one of the fluffy coral chaises by the mirrors.</p><p class="p1">Joy is the one being fitted for her dress, up on the podium while one of the seamstresses pins at her red skirt. She turns to her friend and asks, “Don’t you find it weird? That they spend time together without you and you don’t know what they do?”</p><p class="p1">Mimi smiles sweetly, then shakes her head. “No. He’s helping a lost soul out.”</p><p class="p1">You lean your head up against the wall of the dressing room, willing yourself not to evaporate into fumes of unconsciousness. Why are they talking about you? And what does a lost soul mean?</p><p class="p1">“A lost soul?” Binnie scoffs. “Good one. You don’t think she’s putting that on, just for him?”</p><p class="p1">“Right, right,” Seola agrees, reaching over to tap Mimi on the knee, “Mi, did she know? That you were dating at the time?”</p><p class="p1">Even from your hiding spot, you catch the way Mimi’s brow furrows so deeply as she contemplates the timeline. “I don’t remember, but she must’ve.”</p><p class="p1">You hadn’t.</p><p class="p1">Yooa lowers her voice so that the workers won’t overhear, “<em>A boy from home</em> could’ve meant anyone, she definitely might have said it on purpose.”</p><p class="p1">Wait, wait, they think that you’re faking this? Faking the worst kind of suffering a human being can go through just so you can hold onto a sliver of Jaehyun’s spotlight? That is so, so, so fucked. You wait, hope with all your might that Mimi will remember the conversation you’d had with her at your home, remind her friends that they shouldn’t be discussing this particular subject.</p><p class="p1">“Even if she’s pretending to get his attention or whatever, why should I care?” Mimi shrugs, deflating that hope in an instant, then leans back with confidence to continue, “she was his friend before he was ever with me. If he didn’t want to be with her then, he won’t want to be with her now.”</p><p class="p1">You have to hold your hands out from your body, to keep from pinching at your palm.</p><p class="p1">“Mimi…” Binnie very pointedly widens her eyes, a silent gesture of <em>come on now</em>.</p><p class="p1">That causes Mimi to sit fully upright, the first crease of concern nipping at her mouth. “What? Wait, do you think I should be worried?”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve liked John since junior year of high school,” Yooa grumbles, displeasure evident on her face. “But his gaze has never wavered from y/n. You told me yourself that they went on a date!”</p><p class="p1">Seola nods at her girlfriend like she’s speaking the abject truth, then gives out her information, “Do you think it’s a coincidence that Yuta hasn’t dated anyone lately? Somebody told me he wasn’t reassigned, he asked to be placed with her.”</p><p class="p1">No, no, it was the Vice Premier who had Yuta ascribed to your household, in an attempt to give you a familiar face in your home. Are you going to be doomed to spin the rumor mill in this town for the rest of your life?</p><p class="p1">“Weren’t you two sleeping together?” Mimi asks her.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah!” Seola hisses knowingly, “and he broke it off when she came back!”</p><p class="p1">He did not break things off with her for you in that way. He did not. They’d looked so happy dancing together at Changmin’s blossom ceremony, you were sure there was something more than casual going on there. With your conversation after your pseudo date the other night, you're almost certain that his longing heart is still in her orbit. But you can’t scream at her, <em>Yuta is hung up on you, not me!</em> without giving yourself away, so you remain silent as they continue to gossip.</p><p class="p1">“People saw them out at Bomb’s Away together, like on a date,” Joy adds on, then dips her voice low as she divulges, “but Doyoung also told me that she and Mark’s friend from Pandora are exceedingly close.”</p><p class="p1">“No way, I was thinking about getting to know him at Jaehyun’s party,” Seola groans, her opportunity to move on from Yuta seemingly blocked by you, again. “Fuck, he’s so hot.”</p><p class="p1">Binnie waves her hands to silence the group, “No, no, doesn’t everyone think she’s going to end up with Mark? It makes the most sense. That’s the Cinderella story.” It’s your own life, but you can’t keep track of the moving puzzle pieces, the harrowing, interchanging grips on your heart. Mark is a possibility so far buried, it will never see the light of day ever again.</p><p class="p1">But in direct contrast to your distress is Mimi’s seemingly new light-hearted air, “I don’t know what you girls are on about, all I’m hearing is that she has way more viable options than my boyfriend.”</p><p class="p1">That causes them all to dissolve into a fit of giggles, like Mimi had been a true class-A comedian. “Viable,” Yooa sniffs away a tear, “as if she’d ever cross those lines.”</p><p class="p1">“As if their <em>families</em> would ever let them cross those lines,” Mimi corrects her with a sly, know-it-all smirk. “Even if the Vice Premier loves her, you really think he’d let Mark marry her after what she’s done?”</p><p class="p1">You can’t help it then, fingers immediately darting to torment the skin of your palm. Here is a stark, spoken reminder of every molecule of recent apprehension that’s plagued you. While you’d been tangentially preoccupied with status, your public reputation as a seamstress, or your place in society before, those worries are no longer the status quo. </p><p class="p1">“Sorry, Mi. I didn’t mean to worry you. I think I lumped Jaehyun in based on the way she acts with those three and the fact they live by each other,” Binnie apologizes to her sister, and tacks on, “It doesn’t even seem like she likes him.”</p><p class="p1">“She certainly never has a nice word to say to him when I’ve been around. That’s why I said, he’s just helping a lost soul out.” Mimi returns back to her original conclusion, then composes her voice into the lecturing tone of Regent Jung, “And ladies, we have to be respectful, <em>she is an icon promoting the prestige of our metropolis</em>.”</p><p class="p1">That sets the laughing off again, raucous and rowdy, in a parallel to the way your chest booms with discomfort.</p><p class="p1">You’ve been branded this symbol of prestige, when the only thing you’re actually seen as is a broken doll, or worse, a deranged killer. What happened last year has ruined you permanently, there’s no way a boy’s family will look at you now and even consider you to be an option. The Vice Premier only wounds himself further when you’re around, and though General Suh and Lt. General Nakamoto haven’t interacted with you that extensively, you can predict their similar reactions. Even Mimi, a girl who was once your friend, has dropped all pretenses of trying to be honest with you, showing her deliberate two-faced intentions by using that wretched phrase in such an awful way.</p><p class="p1">“Ma’am?” Dara’s polite voice echoes through the curtain, causing you to back further into the wall. “You need help in there?”</p><p class="p1">You strip off the dress in a hurry, hanging it up as respectfully as possible. Right now there’s only one need you have, to get the hell out of the store. You pass it to her through the gap, “I’ll take this one. No need for alterations.”</p><p class="p1">You race to put on your clothes, your restrictive sweater and confining coat. You can’t wait them out, you need to go. You have to move as fast as you can so they won’t discover that you’ve been eavesdropping this whole time. </p><p class="p1">“Y/n,” Mimi gasps the instant you step out of the dressing room, thoroughly beside herself with shock and regret at seeing you there.</p><p class="p1">Too slow.</p><p class="p1">The five of them are playing up varying degrees of astonishment and guilt, and you have no idea what the fuck to do. There are so many ways to play this, ignorance and the performance of your life that will convince them you hadn’t heard a thing that they were saying. Confrontation and an argument, daring them to say the things they’d said to your face, swearing that you’ll ruin Mimi’s dress. But you can’t disturb the peace. Everyone has been looking forward to this party and things will be disturbingly awkward if you blow it up before then. But you can’t take this lying down either.</p><p class="p1">“Your dress will be done by the party, don’t worry,” you dig in the detail, a specific barb that will let them know you’d heard it all. You take care to smooth it over right after, as the icon of a city possesses the poise to do, “I’ll send someone to bring it to you. See you on Saturday.”</p><p class="p1">Head high, you stride away, pay for your dress, and head back out to the car without a single look back to see how they’d reacted. But when the door has closed you inside the vehicle, it’s as if every bit of you turns into a mush of dissatisfaction. The gossip session had been eye-opening in more ways than you’d anticipated.</p><p class="p1">“That was fast,” Yuta marvels, but you don’t respond. “Y/n? You still want to stop at the library?”</p><p class="p1">It’s evident that you’re doomed to play this role forever. No matter how many times what you’d said to Jeno is hashed out by the citizens of this town, the words will never become reality.You’ve become scarily good at it, stopping yourself from thinking about <em>him</em> in that way, but now you have to train your mind into eliminating the thought completely. Because it will absolutely never happen. Maybe when Kyungsoo goes back to Pandora, he can take you with him. You’ll bear your fear of the capital to get away from this city. There’s got to be someone he knows there that can square himself into the round scar in your chest. You certainly won’t find anyone here.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n?” Even Yuta’s voice hurts a bit too much right now.</p><p class="p1">Your breath frosts at the glass like your heart has frosted over. “Let’s go home.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“The car will be here soon…”</p><p class="p1">You’re under the protection of the umbrella, Yuta’s arm firm around your shoulders - the same position your despondent mood seemed to inspire him to take in the last twenty four hours. But your ear isn’t tuned to his wavelength, instead picking up a separate conversation that’s happening outside of the restaurant.</p><p class="p1">“Can I tell you a secret I couldn’t tell you yesterday?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, please!”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, shh,” you hush Yuta so you can hear what sort of gossip is going to be pandered out.</p><p class="p1">It’s a distinctly female voice that secretly divulges, “We’re going to be announcing our blossom ceremony soon.”</p><p class="p1">Whoa. That had been a newsworthy bit of gossip to tune in to. There hasn’t been a blossom ceremony in the past year, as if the whole city has been in self-imposed mourning in Jeno’s honor. Perhaps the impending bloom is a sign of burgeoning emotional growth for all citizens of the region.</p><p class="p1">Yuta is pleased at the information, smile pricking at his mouth. “Oh? Is there going to be a wedding?”</p><p class="p1">“Sounds like it,” you muse, trying to think of all the long-term couples who are probably ecstatic to move forward with their lives, Doyoung and Joy, Binnie and Minhyuk. There’ll probably be a pool to see who announces it first. Maybe you can win some money with your insider info, Jeno would be proud of you for the scheme. “Who said that?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know. Let me look,” Yuta leans back, getting rain all over his hair as he tries to see who’s going to be entering the promise of matrimony. He ducks back under the umbrella a second later, shaking the droplets out of his locks with a pout, “I couldn’t see who it was, they left too fast.”</p><p class="p1">Sure, you’re disappointed at not getting the details, but you can’t help the small dreg of excitement that pitters in your chest, a welcome feeling after yesterday. “A blossom ceremony, wow. It’s been so long since anyone’s gotten married, Changmin’s was the last, right? This is probably what everyone needs.”</p><p class="p1">“Maybe I should get around to that,” Yuta muses, and your hand slips off of the umbrella handle.</p><p class="p1">“I—, what?” you stutter, not because you’re upset or appalled, but because Yuta has never expressed the desire to get married before, even with what you’d discussed during your date. You’d release him from your service in an instant if that someone he wanted to spend his life with resurfaced. </p><p class="p1">“What, you afraid to lose me?” he teases, knocking his shoulder into yours. And yes, you are, but not in that sense. You would hate the routine change for a little, then get used to it. His happiness is tantamount.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, Yuta! Hey,” a mishmash of voices calls, and you look over to see the expected group of guys under their own umbrellas.</p><p class="p1">“‘Sup, gentlemen,” Yuta greets Johnny, Jaehyun, Mark, Ten, and Kyungsoo for you.</p><p class="p1">“What are you guys up to?” Mark asks, watching the pair of you with careful eyes.</p><p class="p1">“Just finished dinner, waiting for the car,” you explain, straight-forward, why you’re waiting out in the rain. “You?”</p><p class="p1">“Since we have to be proper tomorrow, we’re out for a pre-birthday rager!” Johnny exclaims, and it’s then that you notice he’s holding a paper bag surely filled with a bottle of alcohol. “Hell yeah!”</p><p class="p1">That’s right, Jaehyun’s birthday is tomorrow. How could you have forgotten after sending John his birthday text this week, rushing to buy a dress, and seeing all of the Valentine’s Day decorations up in the restaurant? More so, when Mimi’s gown is still hung up in your house, unfinished after you’d been too affected by her conversation to do it last night.</p><p class="p1">Can Jaehyun tell? That you’re going to have to scramble to make sure things are right at the last minute? Because of what his girlfriend had said about you, but mostly because you’d wasted so much time perfecting something that wasn’t her dress? He’s staring at you weird right now, but maybe it’s the two glasses of wine you’d had with dinner.</p><p class="p1">“You want to go?” you offer, once you see how Yuta’s eyes longingly gaze at the booze they’re holding, after spending dinner sober while on duty. “I can get home fine on my own.”</p><p class="p1">“Can I?”</p><p class="p1">You grab the umbrella from him in affirmation. “Sure.”</p><p class="p1">He scrambles under Johnny’s umbrella before you have a chance to change your mind, and the squad of them go merrily along down the road to where the bars are. You’re glad Yuta went along that quickly, because something about Jaehyun’s gaze had really been off.</p><p class="p1">You try to turn back to face the road, only to be met with someone else reaching to hold your umbrella. Kyungsoo.</p><p class="p1">“What are you still doing here?”</p><p class="p1">He succeeds in taking it from your hand, adjusting his stance so you’re fully covered from the downpour, and answers, “I’m not really their friend.”</p><p class="p1">The Mercedes pulls up to the curb, Winwin flashing the lights in signal. There’s two routes you can take. You can go home, drink alone, and finish Mimi’s dress, or you can go home, drink with Kyungsoo, and finish Mimi’s dress. One option sounds a bit less depressing.</p><p class="p1">“Want to drink then?” you inquire, holding out your hand to gesture to the car. “We’re driving up right now.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s lips twist into a smirk. “I could never say no to that.”</p><p class="p1">Winwin doesn’t say a word when you get into the car with someone that isn’t Yuta, only starting to drive and lightly questioning Kyungsoo, “Not going out with the boys? I’m headed out after I drop you two off.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo scoffs good-naturedly, “Those idiots were acting like it was a bachelor party. That’s not my thing.”</p><p class="p1">Your fingers pinch at your palm in a surprising show of stress. What about Kyungsoo’s statement has induced this level of anxiety in you? He and Winwin chatter back and forth, but you stay silent, watching the steady stream of raindrops melding together on the window. A bachelor party is just a group of guys going out and getting plastered, celebrating one of their buddies. Nothing wrong with that. But the anxiety creeps and creeps and creeps until it’s blasted across the longitude of your spine, curling into every nerve with practiced malignancy. You think it might be due to the stuffy car ride, motion sickness masquerading as a different symptom, but the anxiety is there even as Winwin pulls up into your house, even as Kyungsoo escorts you in under the umbrella.</p><p class="p1">The anxiety hardens into tumors of misery the moment you see Mimi’s unfinished gown looming on its hook on your wall. There is too much wedding paraphernalia swirling in your mind, the white tulle, the pink flowers, the mention of a bachelor party. You know that thinking of matrimony in this way has to be a side effect from overhearing the gossip earlier, that there’d be a blossom ceremony coming up soon.</p><p class="p1">“You good?” you vaguely feel the cold rim of a glass graze your arm, but you’re hypnotized by the dress. This is not what you’d wear, it has too much tulle, and too much pink. White, white, it really only should be white.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n?” Kyungsoo tries again, this time his hand coming around your arm.</p><p class="p1">You take the cocktail from him with a low, “Fine,” and shrug out of his grasp.</p><p class="p1">You take a drink, then you heft the garment off its hook with a grunt of effort. You flop down on the couch, arranging the material neatly across your legs, and you flip the top on your sewing kit, pulling out the needle and thread you’d stashed away the last time you’d worked. “I hope you don’t mind that I do this. I have to finish before tomorrow.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo collapses on the couch across from you with a wave of his hand, “Sew away.”</p><p class="p1">You take it in staggered increments, you sew three small flowers, or one big one, then you drink, one flower, then drink, three, then drink. It’s the only way you can stay clearheaded and neutral enough to get this done, the only way you can keep your mind focused on the task and not trying to pick apart what had induced your anxiety.</p><p class="p1">“What are you adding on, by the way?” he ventures, after you’ve finished the last bud on the bodice and move to touching up the design on the skirt.</p><p class="p1">“Peonies, Mimi’s flower.”</p><p class="p1">“What’s your flower?”</p><p class="p1">You nearly dribble the mouthful of vodka you’d taken all over the pure white skirt of the dress. You’d forgotten he’s from here, that he has a flower seed of his own, knows about the tradition, and overheard you telling Jeno that you’d looked yours up. You swallow the spirits precariously, then mutter, “I can’t tell you that.”</p><p class="p1">He lies back fully on the cushions, lounged and carefree, like this isn’t a topic that nags at him, “It’s not like that’s some kind of lucrative secret, everybody knew everybody’s when I was in school. Mine is the cyclamen, I looked it up in the seed directory.”</p><p class="p1">You want to chastise him for being the kind of person who’s searched up the identity of their flower before their ceremony. But you have no leg to stand on, because you think of that yellowed envelope, tucked back into the bottom of your sock drawer, and how you’d been bursting with curiosity that night to find out what it was.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo interprets your silence in his own way as he stares at the ceiling, “You’re waiting to first tell that boy you want to marry?”</p><p class="p1">Oh. You’d never thought about that, but now that Kyungsoo brings it up, yeah. You do. You’ve never told anyone before, so why not start with <em>him</em>?</p><p class="p1">“Did you ever think about it?” you wonder out loud, painting the question in a broad stroke because you’re afraid of having this conversation.</p><p class="p1">“Think about what?”</p><p class="p1">“T-that. What I said to Jeno?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo sits up at the serious turn this conversation has taken, and shrugs, “I mean, not entirely. I didn’t really <em>know you</em> know you then.”</p><p class="p1">“I put on this gigantic front like I don’t care, but most of the time I wish I hadn’t ever said that to him,” you admit in a hushed voice, as if voicing your regret will taint the last memory you have of Jeno.</p><p class="p1">“What? Why?” Kyungsoo is totally confused with where you’re going on this topic.</p><p class="p1">“There was no point in saying it.” You don’t even wait for him to ask the expected question, <em>Why not?, </em>before you lament, voice bundled with sorrow, “I’m in a situation where I can never actually make it happen, so, you tell me what the point of it was.”</p><p class="p1">You’re voicing it as you grasp the gravity of your reality in real time, what you’d inched towards in the parking lot of the dress shop. That there’s a very stark line that you can never cross, that this is a race you’re never going to win, moreover, you’ve not just fallen behind, you’re collapsed on the route, legs boneless, heart bloodied and exhausted. All you’ve done by saying those words out loud to Jeno was to invite a host of prying eyes into your mangled soul.</p><p class="p1">“That’s new information. Who does that cross off now?” Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to pick up on whatever devastating revelation you’re going through, instead choosing to be facetious. “Johnny? Mark? Yuta?”</p><p class="p1">You narrowly avoid stabbing yourself with the needle as you finish off the flower you’re working on with a particularly savage flourish. “Fuck off.”</p><p class="p1">You expect him to shoot back in a fiery retort as he’s prone to do, not to go quiet and contemplative, “Did you know that before…there was someone I wanted to marry?”</p><p class="p1">You’ve had a hundred and one uber personal conversations over the time he’s been in town, but not once had you touched on this sort of thing. It’s only now that you see just how enticing Kyungsoo must’ve been to the ladies of Pandora before it all, with his pink heart lips and deep voice and penchant for alluring seriousness.</p><p class="p1">“No. We didn’t exactly have time to take a deep dive into our love lives while kidnapped,” you say with more humor than you intend, then you carefully attempt, “What’s the deal with that?”</p><p class="p1">In an echo of your words that is too sad to comprehend, Kyungsoo reveals, “I’m in a situation where I can never actually make it happen.”</p><p class="p1">You snap the thread on the final flower with a menacing twang and the sigh that escapes your mouth is just as ferocious, “I guess we’re both fools, then.”</p><p class="p1">“I just know I’m never going to have someone in my heart like that again,” he divulges, raw and personal and dashed over with notes of finality, like he’s accepted this as his truth with no possibility for change.</p><p class="p1">“Dark,” you mutter, full of sarcasm.</p><p class="p1">“Dark, indeed,” his tone echoes the preceding adjective. “But true. It’s too late for that for me. Is it too late for you?”</p><p class="p1">You smooth your hands out over the completed dress, too consumed with Kyungsoo’s question to contemplate your accomplishment. It’s surely too late, is it not? You have absolutely no idea where this issue stands, and no means to find out discreetly. That pretty much means it’s tanked.</p><p class="p1">You maneuver your way around answering and gently rib, “Are you trying to give me some sage advice or something?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is soaked through with sincerity when he gently suggests, “I don’t know. Think about Jeno. You told him who it was, right? What would he want you to do?”</p><p class="p1">He’s jabbed you to your seat with a thousand safety pins of plain suffering. How could he say something like that? You really wish he couldn’t read right through you in this way, read right through the way that Jeno’s presence still has a hold on you, even now. What would Jeno want you to do? How could you even know that?</p><p class="p1">You sit there, dumbly and silently, and Kyungsoo taps you on the arm as he stands up to leave. “I’m going to run. We all have a long day tomorrow.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no way you could know what Jeno would say about a situation like this, he hadn’t even turned sixteen yet when he died, amiable and goofy with his own childish tunnel vision of the world. He hadn’t dated anyone, had only started to contemplate blossom ceremonies and marriage and the meaning of true love. But he’d known you in a way no one else did, you were his sister more than his friend, and you would not put it past him to stomp a foot and tell you to get over your pity party. He was the kind of kid who’d try and set you up with his bros despite their age, who’d lift a cocky eyebrow and say <em>well when I’m way older you should just crush on me to get over it. </em>Or proffer you one of his too-wise-for-his-age metaphors, something like, <em>there are millions of flowers in your garden, pick a different one</em>.You’re so sure of this fact that you decide in an instant that that’s what you’ll do, in proper honor of your dearest friend’s memory.</p><p class="p1">You’ll stuff this anxiety away like you’ve hidden your flower seed amongst your clothes, and never think of it again. You’ll zip away your erstwhile feelings away like you zip Mimi’s completed dress into the garment bag.</p><p class="p1">You really shouldn’t be going to bed this drunk, it’ll be a nuisance to deal with in the morning before the party. So, after you’ve changed into your black shorts and shirt, you wander back down to the kitchen in search of a sobering glass of cold water. You hope your sober mind is as of strong resolve as your intoxicated one. You make it half a foot to the fridge before there’s a knock at the door. Is the night guard not here yet? It’s almost midnight.</p><p class="p1">With a groan, you heave the door open without bothering to check who’s on the other side. “Hello?—oh.” You should’ve known. He’s the only other person who has access beyond the electric fence. “Hi.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s at your doorstep, bangs plastered to his forehead in the deluge of still-pouring rain. “Hey.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t do anything but stand smack down the middle of the doorframe and block his path into your home. “Did you need something?”</p><p class="p1">It’s as if he’s read your mind, because he peeks into the inviting warmth of your living room and then asks, “Are you going to let me in?”</p><p class="p1">This is an unseemly hour for visitors, least of all a visitor like Jaehyun. But your body is doing the work, not your mind, and before you know it, you’re stepping aside so he can come in, sopping hair dripping all over your welcome mat. Defense mode is host mode, because you have no understanding of why he’s shown up at your place this late, and all you can do is offer, “Would you like something to drink? Tea?”</p><p class="p1">“Maybe water? I think tea will probably make me throw up right now,” you catch on to the slur in his voice, the way his right knee is buckling in the way that it does when he’s drunk and trying to remain upright. Has he accidentally just come to your place instead of going home?</p><p class="p1">“Still can’t hold your alcohol, huh,” you grumble to yourself as you reach for a glass out of your cabinet and pour him his water.</p><p class="p1">He pouts, “Hey! I heard that.”</p><p class="p1">“Listen,” your low sigh is hefted through with fatigue and annoyance, “it’s late and we both have a long day planned tomorrow. Is there really something you need?”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t register the subtle implication that you're suggesting he get the hell out. Jaehyun instead starts to ramble, mouth running at the speed of light, “Well, Mi went back to her parents’ place so she can get ready in the morning with her sister, so I’m staying at the house alone tonight and I promised I’d pick up her dress and bring it but instead of waking you up early I saw that your light was still on and I thought I’d come and get it tonight and—,”</p><p class="p1">You really should get some blackout curtains. ASAP.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, I get it,” you stop him from going any further with your curt response, way sharp and way biting, “you’re here for the dress.”</p><p class="p1">But this he registers, eyebrows dropping low as the same stare from earlier conjures itself onto his face. “Are you okay?”</p><p class="p1">“Ah. Sorry,” you sheepishly apologize as you brush some invisible lint off your top and pluck out which untruth you’re going to put forth, “I’ve been drinking with Kyungsoo. I think I’m just tired.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s nose wrinkles on cue as he looks to your couch, to the exact spot your friend had been sitting in before. “He was here?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, he left like half an hour ago though. I was about to go to bed,” you tell him dully, then wave a hand towards the garment bag, “anyways, the dress is there. Feel free to take it.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not going to stay here and entertain him, he knows where it is and knows how to let himself out of your house. You have a hand on the railing, and a socked foot on the stair when you hear it, dreamy and nostalgic, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen something you made.”</p><p class="p1">You twist your neck to watch Jaehyun gazing in admiration at the black plastic covering. You can’t help but wonder if he’s doing the same thing you are now, thinking of the dozens of shirts and headbands and garments you’ve embroidered for him over the years, covered in delicious fruits or majestic animals or whimsical patterns. Thinking of the precious time you’d carve out to do so, even though you weren’t his family’s seamstress, thinking of how he’d race to wear then as soon as he could.</p><p class="p1">“Wait!” you cry the moment his hand grasps the zipper, and he’s physically taken aback at your outburst. Another lie slips out, “I, um. It’ll probably be better for you not to peek. Mimi will appreciate you seeing it on her first.”</p><p class="p1">A lie that's technically half truth. It’s not a wedding gown, but she’s the kind of girl who will treat it like one. You’d been an idiot to assume what you did before. He’s not thinking of your stupid shirts, of course he’s doing nothing but picturing how lovely his girlfriend is going to look in the dress you’ve made for her, just like you’re picturing how handsomely awestruck he’s going to be tomorrow when she walks into the venue.</p><p class="p1">“Right,” you bite out through your teeth, and then you fumble with a proposition, “Uh, I guess I can give you your birthday present now since you’re already here. It’ll save me the hassle.” Better to get it out of where it’s been lurking in your room since you’d finished it, priorities misaligned; you should’ve been done with the gown first to avoid all of this.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun nods. “Sure.”</p><p class="p1">“Give me a second,” you mumble as you trot up the stairs that lead to your bedroom, but bypass the present retrieval to hide in your bathroom.</p><p class="p1">Why is your body taking attempt after attempt at a mutiny? There’s no comprehensible reason why your heart should be aching through a hundred yard dash’s pace of beats, echoing the thrumming of raindrops audible against your bedroom window. It’s absolutely appalling the way the only glimpse of your face you catch in the dark mirror, lit up only by the straining illumination of his porch light, reveals it to be soured through, spoiled with unease and trepidation.</p><p class="p1">This is Jaehyun you’re talking about, your neighbor and nothing more anymore. He doesn’t inspire a bolus of warmth in your chest like Yuta does, or set your cheeks ablaze in the precise manner that Johnny can. There’s no possibility he’s the sort of long-lost perfect match for you that Mark is, or that he can even attempt to understand you in the intimate way that Kyungsoo seems to. But this is Jaehyun you’re talking about.</p><p class="p1">You emerge from the bathroom, then yelp in surprise because you’re suddenly not alone up there, “Fuck! Oh my god.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun freezes in the doorway, drunken eyes wandering all over the one room in your place he hasn’t seen, neck flexing in discomfort when they land on you cowering against the wall. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to scare you.”</p><p class="p1">“I did <em>not</em> mean follow me up here.”</p><p class="p1">“Sorry. I know I’m not allowed in your room.”</p><p class="p1">You rub at your eyes, out of stress or exhaustion you don’t know, then you fling a hand towards the package in the corner, “I’m going to bed, it’s there on the dresser. You can take it and go.”</p><p class="p1">Just the sight of it only serves to re-light that ever-present anxiety. Anxiety that detonates into fear when Jaehyun picks up the gift, and immediately starts tearing it open.</p><p class="p1">“What the hell are you doing?!” you hiss, but then the words dam in your throat when you hear the choked little note that escapes his lips.</p><p class="p1">If you’d been struck by the way he’d gazed at Mimi’s covered dress earlier, you may as well be slammed right into the ground at the way his eyes start to gloss over, at the tremor that crashes through his fingers on the wooden frame.</p><p class="p1">And if he’d been rambling before, words coming out in an inebriated fast-paced mishmash, you’re an assortment of drivel and gibberish as you attempt to explain it away now, “Listen, I know it’s not a lot, but I had no idea what to buy since we hardly talk about that kind of stuff anymore. I technically lost the bet, and have owed you something I made for so long, I figured this would do.”</p><p class="p1">“This is… This is…..” Jaehyun’s words have hidden themselves away, uncooperative, as he tries to search for a response.</p><p class="p1">You gently shift the frame in his hands, illuminating your embroidery in the sparkling chandelier light, “That’s your house, here on the hill, and the river,” your fingertips brush the sturdy brown structure at the peak of the green, grassy knoll, then they tentatively dance next to where his are grasping onto the frame, by the azure strands, “I was going to add your flower, but I realized I still don’t know what your flower seed is.” Then, you finish with a confession he won’t realize is one as your fingers pirouette over the tiny white stars amongst the grass, “So I added in the field of stellaria instead.”</p><p class="p1">“Honeysuckle.”</p><p class="p1">You glance up at him, but he’s still staring at your gift. “What?”</p><p class="p1">“My flower seed is a honeysuckle seed,” he breathes out, fingers tracing over your delicate stitching. Then, Jaehyun turns all of his lofty attention to you and asks, “Where’s your house, though?”</p><p class="p1">“Why would I embroider my house on this?”</p><p class="p1">“We’ve been neighbors up here since we were kids.” He’s right, no one looks up to the hill and sees only one house, it’s yours and it’s his, standing strong as they have for years now, hill houses forever. But you don’t think Jaehyun wants a display of you and him in a place he’ll share with Mimi.</p><p class="p1">“I can add it in if you want,” you concede when you register that he’s, like, legitimately upset about your omission. “I’m sorry, give it,” you try to pull it out of his hands, but he exerts the brunt of his strength and tears it completely from your grasp, tucking it into his chest.</p><p class="p1">“No,” Jaehyun’s breath is ragged with exertion after that, and he nearly stumbles as he steps backwards and starts to flee from your room. “I’m, I’m gonna go.”</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun, I—,” you call after him, wanting him to know that you’ll definitely fix his present any way he wants. You expect him to be halfway out your door, but you’re met with him rooted onto the landing at the top of your stairs. “What are you doing?”</p><p class="p1">He’s gripping your needlepoint to his frame like it’s the very last lifejacket on a doomed, sinking boat. “Can I ask you something?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah?”</p><p class="p1">“Marco’s been really closelipped about the reason he decided to come back. I really thought he’d never set foot in Neozone again. ”</p><p class="p1">Holy shit. That’s not at all where you thought this would go. Why is he throwing the subject of Mark into the mix? It’s not like you need crippling nausea to be blended up into the fuckery of your other feelings.</p><p class="p1">“And?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun searches for the words, thought process connecting a rainbow into the precarious pot of information you hold, “Well, I thought maybe you knew something.”</p><p class="p1">Deny, deny, deny, deny, deny!“No matter how many people think I’m sort of mystical all knowing power, I am not.”</p><p class="p1">“Come onnnn,” he drags out the sigh. While he might not have the minute awareness of your traumas like Kyungsoo does, it’s not out of the realm of possibility that Jaehyun was put here on this earth to know every bit of you. “You didn’t look surprised when he showed up at the train station.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s already halfway to the truth, and you know that he will not take another step out of your house until he’s pried that specific, hurtful clarification right out of you. Better to let it out as nonchalantly as you can and hope he moves on.</p><p class="p1">“It’s your birthday, and he’s your best friend. So, I wrote a letter.”</p><p class="p1">“I, I,” he stutters, “I don’t understand.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no holding back your exasperated exclamation, “How could you not, Jae! Do you need me to spell it out for you?!” He’s silent and you’re frothing with devastation to the point where you nearly start crying as the words are yanked from your chest, “I set aside the personal trauma that seeing Mark gives me and begged him to come here to celebrate your birthday.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Dear bumble,</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>I didn’t put my name on the envelope because I was afraid of what you’ll do when you see that it’s from me. But I have to get this out somehow, because this is too pressing not to. I’ll make it quick for you. You know Jaehyun’s birthday is coming up, and I’m mainly writing this because it would be nice if you would be here to celebrate with him. His father’s throwing a huge party, everyone here is so excited.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“I get it, what writing a letter means,” Jaehyun is nothing short of gobsmacked as he’s working to figure this out. “I just, I just don’t understand.”</p><p class="p1">“Having him here is your real birthday present from me,” you whisper.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories, that I’m a recluse and withering away and a shell of myself and a hundred other, similar awful things. Maybe that’s true. I can’t take a trip to the grocery store without whispers, so Yuta does it for me; I have no idea when I’ve last seen people like Doyoung or Lucas. I can’t even look at a sewing needle without wanting to burst into tears, can’t think of you without my heart splitting completely in two. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">He echoes you directly back, still not quite believing what you’re saying, “Mark coming home is my real birthday present from you.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>But you have to know this, that I guess I’m still me somehow. I do go out to the stellaria patch on the days that are particularly warm, and I see the kiddo when I’m feeling up to it.I can crack a smile at the awful jokes Yuta tells, and sometimes I dream about shirt patterns I want to make.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>The truth of it is that I’ve only been able to do so because of Jaehyun. He invites me to dinner at his house every Sunday. He disguises his intentions under the excuse that we’re neighbors, but he’s not as good of a liar as he thinks he is. I know he’s worried. I would be too, if it was him. I pretend like I hate them, but those hours are the only times when I actually feel alive again, like most of me didn’t die with your brother. It’s only after dinner with him that I feel steady enough in myself to go out and live.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>I think you know there’s nothing I can do to repay that sort of thing. Nothing I can buy or make could ever come close, except this. So, for the sake of whatever we have left between us, whatever you once held for me, please, please, please think about coming home when your father visits. It’d make Jaehyun happy.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>love you forever,</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>bee</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Why did you do that?!” Jaehyun bursts out, his confused stress barreling right into you. “I didn’t even know things were that bad between you, but if seeing him hurts you that much, you shouldn’t have!”</p><p class="p1">Wait. Is he mad? He’s not supposed to be mad about this. “I did it to make you happy.”</p><p class="p1">“You don’t have to hurt yourself like this for me,” he says, hushed voice doing its best to come out.</p><p class="p1">“I do!” Your voice ascends into the pitchiest exclamation, then immediately craters into the most reluctant murmur, “I do. Because the boy from home was you.”</p><p class="p1">There is the truth, making its debut into the world. Jaehyun Jung is the boy you’d been talking about.</p><p class="p1">You take his stunned silence as shocked repulsion and you rush in a haste to make amends, “I’m really sorry for saying it, but you can’t be mad. You can’t. Jeno asked, and I obviously didn’t know you had started dating Mimi at that time, but <em>Jeno asked</em>, Jaehyun. I’m so sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“You wanted to marry me?” Jaehyun breathes out in awe, which really isn’t awe, it’s most likely halfway to disgust.</p><p class="p1">You shake your head, eyes screwing shut. “It didn’t mean—,”</p><p class="p1">He puts the frame face down on the strip of railing at the top of your stairs, then his voice dips into a heartfelt plea, “No, please don’t lie. You wanted to marry <em>me</em>?”</p><p class="p1">Maybe if you keep your eyes closed when you confess, the killing blow of his rejection won’t destroy you so wholly. “Yes.”</p><p class="p1">A heartbeat detonates in your chest, then another, and Jaehyun still hasn’t said a single word. But you feel it, the graze of his hand against yours, the tangent of him crossing upon the tangent of you.</p><p class="p1">At first, you’d thought there was no possibility of knowing what Jeno would want you to do about this. Then, you’d steadfastly assumed that he would tell you to buck up and get over it. But you’d been wrong. You’d ignored one vital, crucial, totally unforgettable garland of evidence. As you’d held him in your arms, and whispered the name of who you’d been talking about, Jeno had used his precious breaths to say <em>I’m sure he does</em>. Had he known something?</p><p class="p1">“I really think you should add your house onto that,” Jaehyun whispers, fingers coming to a stop fully around yours. “I — it’s not complete without you — yours.”</p><p class="p1">There is a sonorous ring of silence, and then you first feel the tip of his nose brush upon your nose. Then his cupid’s bow melds onto your own, and finally you catch the fleck of his lower lip against yours, before his mouth pulls away. The hesitating second he takes may as well cross the cavernous expanse of a lifetime together, you don’t even get a chance to open your eyes to confirm what’s happening, because Jaehyun kisses you.</p><p class="p1">It’s a three strand braid of feeling, one, the unleaded astonishment that callously shoves its way into your chest at the feel of his pretty lips on yours. Two, the unsophisticated devotion flaring through you as he tilts his head to draw you in, boundlessly close to his heaving chest. And three, the crushing relief, because he’s had a keen hold over you since you’d arrived on the train at seventeen, one you were prepared to strangle yourself in.</p><p class="p1">That’s what’s tying you to him now. It’s not just his hand dropping from yours so he can envelop you in his arms, or the tantalizing path his tongue takes to luxuriate into your mouth as your feet move of their own accord, one step back, and another, until the pair of you are crossing the threshold of your room in a pointed dance.</p><p class="p1">It’s the way he takes caution to not remove himself from your presence, to keep his lips on yours for as long as he possibly can, kissing you and kissing you and kissing you until your head is full to bursting with nonsense affection for him. He’s seeing his mission full to the end, strong hands encircling your waist as he lowers you both back onto the bed, his nose brushing yours when he unhurriedly and lasciviously moves his mouth all over yours, this way and that, rosebud after rosebud after rosebud of his fondness for you.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, wait. I—,” you can’t think, you can’t, you really can’t as you take in the image of his curly mop of hair contrasting against the dull grey pillowcase you have; you, a gorgeous flower trying to blossom in the rays of his luminous stare.</p><p class="p1">His teeth bite at the tiniest corner of his strawberry lip, before he asks in hesitation, “Do you want me to stop? I can stop.”</p><p class="p1">“No, I just. I just. I….” You fumble for something, anything to keep you from confessing what you really want to right now, and you settle firmly on the sight of empty space before you. “I’ll get you a pillow. It’d be dumb to share one. Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.”</p><p class="p1">You swing a leg off of him, climbing out of his lap as fast as you can, running an errant hand through your hair as you go to your closet. You take a less than organized look through your storage, unsure if you’re stalling or scared, and come across the spare pillow you’d previously had no use for. The pillow you’re pulling out now because Jaehyun Jung is in your bedroom.</p><p class="p1">You can’t look at him when you make your way back to the side of your bed, eyes only taking in the errant thread that’s come loose in the blue pillowcase you’re holding. You perch at the edge of the bed and wordlessly hand him the pillow, choosing then to focus on your half-filled glass of water on the night stand. You should’ve finished the glass, you feel way too inebriated right now.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” his voice is tentative, motions uncertain, as he takes the navy cushion from you.</p><p class="p1">“It’s just a pillow,” you mutter.</p><p class="p1">A gentle hand encircles your wrist, cautiously twisting you so you have no choice but to look at him, look at Jaehyun’s beautiful amber eyes, his handsome smile, and the comely words that spill from it, “No, for everything. Thank you for <em>everything</em>.”</p><p class="p1">You’re going to have to ask him later what he’d meant by that, because you’re too swept up by his attentive hands around your form, lifting you into his lap so he can resume marveling at you. Too consumed by how he takes your face delicately into his hands, thumbs smoothing over your cheeks once before he reaches his mouth up to press it into yours again.</p><p class="p1">“How are you so pretty?” he pulls back and whispers, next kissing the incline of your jaw, and the breadth of your neck, all skin you’re sure is dusted over with the essence of cherry blossom. His fingers meander up the frosty peak of your gathered hair, and with great care, he loosens the tie holding up your locks, sending them cascading in an artful tumble. He takes in the hazy mess of your being and breathes it out again, “How are you so pretty, even like this? How am I so lucky that you like me like this?”</p><p class="p1">It’s you, it’s you that’s lucky.</p><p class="p1">Then you’re somehow at the point where you’re helping him pull off his grey sweater, and the white tee he has on underneath. You’ve seen him shirtless many times like this, trips to the river and pool days at the mansion, but never in this beguiling, close up way. You’re so hypnotized by him under you that you don’t quite register his hand curling under the hem of your sleep tee, first meandering by the waistband of your shorts, then inching upwards on your bare back.</p><p class="p1">Your hand snatches up his in a panic before he can go any further, voice hitching, “Wait, I, you can’t see. My, my…”</p><p class="p1">This is it, this is the moment where he sees the scar in all of its ugly glory for the first time. A year of painstaking work is about to be erased, the bulky sweaters and long shirts and absolute avoidance of that region of you. This is the moment where he freaks out and runs, of course he will. But maybe if somehow, this part doesn’t have to happen, you can linger here with him for a moment longer.</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay,” Jaehyun soothes you, fingers smoothing your shirt back down into place. “It’s okay.”</p><p class="p1">That should’ve been the confirmation you need, to leave your shirt be and return to the endeavor you’d prefer. But it does the exact opposite, it spurs you on to attempt something you never thought you’d do. Shifting to the side on his legs, in a stance you know will afford him a total view of it, you keep one hand on his while the other slowly pulls off the black cotton.</p><p class="p1">You wait, for that moment, but it never comes.</p><p class="p1">“Still pretty,” he hums as he raises himself up from his position to grasp at your head, to turn it softly and kiss you. He kisses a constellation from your mouth to your ear, so he can murmur, “Your heart is so pretty it decided to show itself off.”</p><p class="p1">You nearly start crying at that, bustling at the precipice of losing it in a very unseemly manner. Because Jaehyun knows the truth of what you did, and has chosen to frame it in this incredibly soul touching way.The scar had been borne out of an act of love, nothing less.</p><p class="p1">Very carefully, as if he might splinter you apart, his fingers come to rest against the root of your blemish. As they delicately drag up the complete length of your scar, you’re halfway convinced that you’ll wake up and it will have disappeared, because his touch is the only healing salve you need.</p><p class="p1">His hand finishes its journey, curling around your shoulder blade in a cascade of intimate warmth and bringing you back into him. Jaehyun lies back onto his navy pillow, arms hugging around you in a halo of amorousness, and the rushing rapids of your pulse in your ear almost overpower what he asks next, “Can that be my birthday present too?”</p><p class="p1">You lift your chin to look up at him, “What?”</p><p class="p1">His soft little grin crashes right into you. “Your pretty heart?”</p><p class="p1">Your first instinct is to deny, as you’re want to do. But there’s no hiding it anymore, you’ve blasted the truth out into the open with your first confession of your desire to marry him. And y/n, it would be wrong of you to lie.</p><p class="p1">“You are so corny,” you tease first, taking your sweet time to relish in a familiar, flirtatious dig. Then, you brush a lock of your freed hair out of your face and murmur, “It can’t be a gift when it’s already been yours.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s grin transfigures into a breathtaking smile, spread across his face like the most intoxicating slice of glistening moonlight. He kisses you again, done with waiting any longer to do so, your hands staying firmly laced together even when he pirouettes you back onto the pillow.</p><p class="p1">And though he doesn’t say much else in his preoccupation, you know him, and know that his heart is truly yours in return.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>cliffhanger of the century! ;) thank u for reading</p><p>also don't flame me for cutting out the majority of yuta's date, if i do deleted scenes at the end it might reappear. i thought the context of their conversation afterwards was way more important</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. citrus sinensis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>That’s right. Jaehyun was the one who came by to pick up Mimi’s dress. You remember that for sure, you’d given him a glass of water because he was so drunk tea would’ve made him throw up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is also one of my favorite chapters but for wholly different reasons</p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The blaring of your unsilenced ringtone punishes you into consciousness, a double edged sword paired with the way hot afternoon sun is streaming in through your window. You fumble for your phone on the nightstand, answering with a groan, “Hello?”</p><p class="p1">“Where the hell are you,” Yuta’s shouty voice reverberates into your ear, which spikes the headache. “Winwin and I have been waiting and your door is still locked!”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, what time is it?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s already 12:15!”</p><p class="p1">You fly out of your bed as if electrocuted, nearly sprawling across the floor in your haste to become a functioning human. “Shit, shit, I’m coming!”</p><p class="p1">You turn off the call, not able to multitask while on the phone with Yuta. You literally go running through your bedroom, gathering your makeup and hair products, tearing the dress bag out of your closet and tossing it to the foot of your bed with a pair of shoes you aren’t even sure that match.</p><p class="p1">When your hand comes into the proximity of your drawers, as you’ve done out of habit every time you’ve walked by lately, they don’t come into contact with the scratchy bit of parchment paper that you’d used to wrap Jaehyun’s gift. You glance down, and there’s no nefarious package. You rifle through drawers, check under the crack by the floor, and even under your bed, but nothing. What?</p><p class="p1">You’re beyond perplexed, still are after you’ve stuffed your belongings into your leather satchel and exit your room. It all goes tumbling down the stairs the moment you notice something’s gone.</p><p class="p1">“The dress, the dress, where the fuck is the dress?!” you mutter, eyes frantically scanning the cavernous expanse of your first floor. There’s no black plastic anywhere. You swore you’d hung it up right there, on the wall by your dishwasher.</p><p class="p1">You leap down the stairs two at a time, half expecting to see a window shattered or some signs there’d been an intruder, but there’s nothing. Your sewing kit is still there on the ottoman, your empty glasses and Kyungsoo’s beers still on the side table. But then your body seesaws to a halt.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Anyways, the dress is there. Feel free to take it.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Right, someone had come by to pick it up, probably because they knew this was going to happen. Who? Yuta or a night guard must’ve come back to the house. Or Kyungsoo offered to take it when he left. Just how much had you had to drink last night? That also doesn’t explain why Jaehyun’s gift had vanished from the spot where it’d lurked for weeks.</p><p class="p1">You take two aspirin, chug half a water bottle, and sprint out of your house, huffing out in exhaustion by the time you’re in the back seat with Yuta.</p><p class="p1">“What took you so long?” he exclaims, then his pitch heightens when he takes in your shapeless pajamas sans a jacket, “And what are you wearing?!”</p><p class="p1">You signal for Winwin to go, and you take out your eyeshadow palette before you start to answer, “I’m sorry, you woke me up and I couldn’t find Jaehyun’s gift anywhere. I have no idea what happened to it.” You shake your head in continued disbelief, is there a chance you moved it during your drunken haze, hidden it away so you didn’t have to keep looking at it?</p><p class="p1">“What were you doing last night, huh?” Yuta elbows you, causing you to nearly smear bronze makeup all over your forehead.</p><p class="p1">“Nothing, I had to finish sewing Mimi’s dress.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t think we all didn’t realize Kyungsoo left the bar crawl once he saw you.”</p><p class="p1">The moment Winwin snickers is when you register the lascivious tone that Yuta had utilized. He can’t be implying that you’d had Kyungsoo over for other reasons, there’s no way. That’s not the kind of relationship you have. You correct him for the record, “Yeah, he came over and had a beer while I <em>sewed</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s face falling tells you that’s definitely what he had thought. “Oh.”</p><p class="p1">“I stayed up so late finishing it that I must’ve knocked dead out without setting an alarm,” you sigh as a particularly strong winter sun ray hits you right in the face and spikes your pain. “I still feel hungover. How was the rest of your night?”</p><p class="p1">“You missed a fun ass night, y/n,” Winwin chirps, and for him to say something means some rowdy shit must’ve gone down.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, is that so? What’d I miss?”</p><p class="p1">“Well, for starters, Lucas tried to get us to go to the strip club but John was so drunk he insisted he would ‘not set foot in such an establishment so as to not disrespect y/n,’ which everyone found hilarious,” Yuta’s story causes both you and Winwin to laugh at the image of Johnny doing something like that, very on brand for his personality. “So instead we drank pretty much every tequila bottle left at Cherry’s. What else?”</p><p class="p1">“Mark bodying the cha cha slide, Jaehyun disappearing, doing the Candy Challenge in honor of Jeno…” Winwin starts to list the events of the night off one by one, but you can only hone in on one specific thing.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, Jaehyun disappeared?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, walked right out into the rain and didn’t come back,” Yuta explains as he holds the small mirror up for you. “Thought he was going out for some air or something but we were way too drunk to notice he actually left for good.”</p><p class="p1">You still have the makeup brush in hand, you can’t nervously pinch at your palm like your body is screaming at you to do, because he couldn’t have disappeared. That’s too much like Jeno, it’s too much like what happened. Why is Yuta not freaking out right now?</p><p class="p1">“That’s weird,” you try to rein your voice in, to keep calm and not escalate as you’re want to do. “Is he okay?”</p><p class="p1">You let out a huge, heaving sigh the moment Yuta nods, “Yeah, he texted me this morning to make sure Johnny was alive. Guess we’ll see at the party.”</p><p class="p1">Now that you think about it, when you’d all run into each other outside of the restaurant last night, Jaehyun had been acting really weird. But it makes sense, with this sort of event looming on the horizon, he’d probably just wanted to go home and sleep. He’s okay y/n, he hadn’t been abducted in the middle of the street, calm down.</p><p class="p1">Winwin pulls up in front of the receiving area they’ve created in front of the Jung’s mansion, and you pat Yuta’s hand. “I’m gonna run in and get changed. I’ll see you inside. Sorry about this morning.”</p><p class="p1">You hardly recognize Jaehyun’s childhood home with all the people already milling about, the drapes of pink and red everywhere, and the extravagant outfits that everyone’s pulled out of their closets. What you’re wearing makes it impossible to walk right in without a bucket of embarrassment, so you loiter in a shadowy corner until some event staff walks by and can direct you to where they’ve sequestered away some guest bathrooms.</p><p class="p1">Once you’re locked in the fancy lavatory, you waste no time, you strip the pajamas off your weirdly stiff body and throw on the gown without a care, feeling a small ounce of relief that you’d managed to snag matching nude heels from your closet in your haste. You don’t even bother to look in the mirror to do your hair, pinning it up in a twist with some random diamond hairpins that you’d grabbed.</p><p class="p1">The one thing you do before you exit is turn to check that the entirety of your scar is covered with opaque fabric on the backside of your dress. You’re pleasantly surprised to see that the saleslady had been right in her suggestion, and that the long, thin, ever present reminder of your suffering won’t be visible by anyone. Almost as if it had been erased clean off you.</p><p class="p1">Satisfied with your general appearance, you exit the bathroom and immediately spot a familiar coiffed head of hair, waiting by the entrance.</p><p class="p1">You try to catch Kyungsoo’s attention, “Hey, have you seen J—,” but the moment his head swivels to see you, his pretty round eyes get even rounder, if at all possible.</p><p class="p1">“Whoa.”</p><p class="p1">You glance back to the bathroom, to see if maybe he’d caught something bizarre that you didn’t, but there’s nothing except for the door you’d come out from. “What, what, is something wrong?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” he shakes his head, gathering himself into propriety, then continues, “Have I seen who?”</p><p class="p1">You’re no longer listening, because there Jaehyun is. Surrounded by more guards than usual, he’s standing alone in the sunlit foyer, shaking hands with partygoers that are filtering in. Like the morning sunrise come to life in one handsome man, he's resplendent in a wine colored suit with gold filigree detail all over the jacket, with gold jewelry sparkling around his neck and his wrists. You swallow thickly. You could’ve sewed that yourself. Why didn’t he ask you?</p><p class="p1">“I was going to ask if you’ve seen Jaehyun, I need to ask him something.” Specifically, did he see anyone coming to the house last night that you may have forgotten? “But he’s over there so I’ll just go.”</p><p class="p1">“Wait,” Kyungsoo calls, and when you stop, you take an appreciative look at how nicely he fills in his plain black suit. His lips twist into a mischievous smirk, “If there weren’t like ten guys in front of me in line, I would’ve flirted with you just now.”</p><p class="p1">A tiny something punctures right into your chest, a supple remembrance. You shake your head, but can’t help the smile and laugh, “You can flirt with me regardless of your place in line.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo steps over to where you are, and he gracefully arcs his face towards yours to breathe, “You look pretty.”</p><p class="p1"><em>How are you so pretty?</em> A dreamy voice that’s not his is murmuring it to you, so, so, so unbelievably tender. <em>How are you so pretty, even like this?</em></p><p class="p1">You grasp at his neck and give him your coquettish return, whispered right into his ear, “That’s not flirting. Try harder.”</p><p class="p1">Then, you release your hold on him and stride away, all of a sudden consumed by whatever memory Kyungsoo had inadvertently sparked in you. Was that from a dream you’re only remembering now? Was this some kind of foolish fantasy you'd acted out while in the midst of your intoxicated, emotional catastrophe? No matter, Jaehyun’s right there, you need to get his attention, “Hey!”</p><p class="p1">The doors to your right fly open with a flourish as the syllable leaves your mouth, and Mimi appears. As soon as you see her in the dress, see your completed dress for the first time, you think honest to god, hand on your heart, that you should be hailed as a genius.</p><p class="p1">She is an ethereal fairy princess, as promised. Spun right into the delicate ivory tulle, blushed flower in her curled hair, diamond jewelry glowing even without a spotlight. Your precise stitching is so lifelike across the skirt and bodice, to the point where it looks like she’d just rolled in a field of gorgeous peonies and came out with them draped around her. If you hadn’t spent those painstaking hours with needle and thread, you would’ve longed to reach your fingers out, to try and pluck one of the shimmering pink petals off her dress. You’d been proud of the VP’s ascension jacket, but this might be your best work yet. You and your ruined hands have created this gorgeousness.</p><p class="p1">You’re standing close enough to the couple that you’re privy to the exact way Jaehyun’s mouth opens when he drinks the sight of her in, the way she so happily runs up to him, spins in place to show her dress off, and then kisses him right on the mouth. She kisses him again, and once more, before greeting, “Hi, babe. Happy birthday.”</p><p class="p1">That was too close to a groom seeing his bride on their wedding day, far too similar to that for your liking.</p><p class="p1">“There you are! Y/n!”</p><p class="p1">You turn at the sound of your name, where Yuta is sneaking in behind Mimi. In a complete parallel to the scene you’d witnessed, Yuta’s mouth hangs wide open when he’s seen all of you. But after the image of Mimi in her dress, it feels more like scrutiny than awe. “Oh, wow,” Yuta gasps as slaps Johnny on the arm, and Johnny nearly trips over his own left foot when he notices you. As soon as he’s close enough, and before you can stop him, Johnny punches Jaehyun on the arm.</p><p class="p1">“Ow! What was that for—,” Jaehyun grunts, and every last word he says dissipates into the air when he sees you.</p><p class="p1">Okay, you get it, it’s not the black you usually wear, it’s the one off gown in gold you’d picked at the boutique, but there’s no reason why they should be so upset. You get it, it’s hard to compare to what Mimi’s wearing, but it’s not like you had time to make something as stunning for yourself. Plus, going downtown to pick up a new gown was already an arduous task for you.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s nervous left hand goes to brush a curl of hair out of his face, then his fingers fold into a fist that covers his surprised mouth. Yuta and Johnny are silent, staring, and you can faintly pick up on Mimi’s exasperated sigh as she tries to see what’s going on. You feel embarrassingly on display, more so that you think you’ve ever been in your life.</p><p class="p1">“Move on, gentlemen, this isn’t a peep show,” Mark drawls as he passes behind you with his father, not stopping to do a double take like his friends had. You catch his eye to mouth <em>th</em><em>anks</em>, and he gives you a curt nod.</p><p class="p1">Yuta swings an arm around your shoulders and urges you along, “Come on, let’s get a place for lunch." He shuffles you away from where Johnny and Jaehyun are still gaping, and tries to make pleasant conversation while you walk together, “What’d you get for Jae?”</p><p class="p1">Should you go home and change? Find something less-eye catching, something that could be considered inoffensive? Should you go home and stay there? Their behavior is surely an indication of what’s to come from the larger attendance. You shake your head, totally missing what he’s just said, “What?”</p><p class="p1">“You said you couldn’t find his present this morning,” Yuta reminds you, and you wish he hadn’t. Because on top of all this confusion is the same panic that had flowed right through you when you’d lost his gift this morning. At least Mimi’s gown had made it to her.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, it was on my dresser, but when I went to grab it it was gone,” you mutter, trying to retrace your steps. “I don’t remember giving it to Jae yesterday when he came by to pick up Mimi’s dress.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta stops walking in surprise and asks, “He came by your place? I thought you said Kyungsoo was over last night.”</p><p class="p1">That’s right. Jaehyun was the one who came by to pick up Mimi’s dress. You remember that for sure, you’d given him a glass of water because he was so drunk tea would’ve made him throw up.</p><p class="p1">Your brow furrows as you try to recall what else had gone down, “Yeah, I forgot he showed up after. I guess that’s what happened when he disappeared from the bar,” but nothing else comes to mind, so you finish with, “anyways, I just got him a framed picture. Nothing big, I’ll give it to him later when I find it.”</p><p class="p1">“Over here!” Ten waves by the table that he’s picked out and you stop to finally take a good look around the room.</p><p class="p1">Why does it look like a wedding in here? Every table is draped in a lace tablecloth, every centerpiece is stuffed to the brim with salmon pink carnations and red, red roses. Jaehyun’s mom has really done her duty with Valentine’s Day imagery for this, there’s no way this is the kind of party he would’ve picked out himself. But more importantly, why did the guys choose to arrange themselves in a way that leaves the only seat open right next to Mark?</p><p class="p1">That means you can do nothing but sit ramrod straight in your seat, but stare at your name written out in calligraphy on the place setting. As the servers come around with whatever high class four course meal they’ve settled on, you’re at the point where you’re basically feeling as if your spinal cord has been heaved in two, with the way every last one of your limbs has begun to lose sensation. You can’t continue being bombarded from all directions like this, smelling Mark’s Tom Ford cologne to your right, Yuta’s arm brushing yours to your left, Johnny's not at all subtle stare, and right in front of you, Jaehyun’s merry laugh curling into your ears from three tables away.</p><p class="p1">“Attention, everyone!” Doyoung is MCing the event, which makes sense considering the popularity of his radio show. The amiable buzz of the crowd settles down to listen in to his melodic voice, “Regent Jung has prepared a few words to congratulate his son.”</p><p class="p1">In the minute that the Regent takes to walk up on the podium, Yuta looks down and notices that you haven’t even touched your filet. “Are you good? You’re not eating.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m fine,” you breeze out in a lie, because you’re decidedly not fine, but don’t have the words to explain the truth properly. “I feel kind of weird but I think it’s just a hangover. Shh, let’s listen.”</p><p class="p1">Regent Jung has given many a speech, at rallies and tv shows alike, but you’re very curious to see what he’ll say in his son’s honor. The manner in which he treats you doesn’t shake with how he adores his son, and you’ve never been able to pinpoint why. Case in point, the way he’s already sniffling as he hefts a champagne glass in his hand.</p><p class="p1">“Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone, I want to thank you all for taking today to be here to celebrate my son. I could go on and on about what a wonderful person he’s become, but I’ll try to reign in my fatherly pride so as not to embarrass him. Of course, you’ve grown into a handsome young man that’s good at his job, your mother would want me to say that. But I am most proud of your kind heart and innate ability to care for others. Happy birthday, kiddo. Love you.”</p><p class="p1">There’s expected ringing applause, and you’re in the midst of a thought that the gushing, almost corny speech had felt appropriate for the Regent, when Vice Premier Lee stands up and takes his place at the podium.</p><p class="p1">“Happy birthday, Jaehyun,” he starts off evenly, smoothly. “I can say a few words on behalf of my family…”</p><p class="p1">But there’s a thunderous scraping noise as Mark shoots up beside you and waves an arm in the air, calling, “No, Dad, I’ll do it.”</p><p class="p1">Before you realize it, you’ve pinched at your palm so hard you’re sure there’s going to be a bruise there tomorrow. Is this the moment where he takes his revenge and spills everything you wrote in that letter, as retaliation for your perceived role in Jeno’s death? It has to be, there’s no other reason why he’d shown up in the city to act appropriately hot and cold towards you these past few weeks.</p><p class="p1">“It was hard, for me to come back here. I had no idea what it was going to be like, no idea if I’d run straight back to Pandora right away,” Mark starts, emotions running rampant through the pointed syllables in his opening statement. He takes a pause, to dab at the teardrops that have collected at the corner of his eye, then the smallest grin comes creeping up, “But none of that matters, not really, because you’re my best friend. I want to celebrate every birthday of yours with you until we’re old and grey and live next to each other in our tiny houses. You mean so much to me, more than I can ever say. Happy birthday Jae, I love you.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Having him here is your real birthday present from me.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Pinch after pinch after pinch, your fingers will not stop their nervous flutters against your hand as Jaehyun gets up to hug Mark, the two of them burying their heads in the other’s shoulder. You’d made this happen, you did. You’d asked Mark to come home to make Jaehyun happy. You’d said as much at some point, but to who? Did you spill the beans yourself somehow?</p><p class="p1">Mark is very quickly replaced by Mimi on the dais, who is the most enthusiastic of all to give her message to her boyfriend, “Well, I know you all are probably sick of the speeches and want to get to the party, so I’ll make mine very fast, okay?”</p><p class="p1">“You’re the best, Mimi!” Someone whoops, which earns her a very raucous round of applause. Hm, ironic.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you!” she chirps, clearly pleased at the compliment. One things start to settle down, she waves her hands to focus the attention back on her, “Anyways, I just wanted to wish my boyfriend the happiest twenty-fifth birthday. I love you, babe! I also wanted to tell everyone that we will be holding our blossom ceremony on the first day of spring!”</p><p class="p1">Your fingernail slips, razing a cut across the longitude of your hand.</p><p class="p1">“What?!” Winwin gasps just as Johnny yelps, “What the hell?”</p><p class="p1">“Ohhhh, so that’s who it was!” Yuta says with a pleased grin, wiggling his elbow into yours, in case you’d forgotten. Nope, you definitely hadn’t. Especially hard to forget the fact that you’d been excited about the prospect of a blossom ceremony happening again.</p><p class="p1">Johnny leans over the table with a surprised hiss, “You guys knew?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s exuberant nod can practically be felt. “We heard someone talking about it yesterday, but weren’t able to figure out who said it. That’s so wild!”</p><p class="p1">“That one’s been a long time coming,” Mark hums, sitting back in his seat next to you. “They’ve been dating for a while now, seems like she’s been foaming at the mouth for this to happen since she first asked him out.”</p><p class="p1">“Mimi’s parents are going to bankrupt themselves putting this together. Holy shit. This is going to be so amazing,” Yuta marvels as he turns back to look at the couple, who are slow dancing now.</p><p class="p1">“If the dress you made her for this looks that fantastic, her ceremony dress is going to be fucking incredible,” Johnny heaps the praise right over you, but his strong voice is now echo-y, like you’re stuck at the bottom of a dry well he’s calling down to.</p><p class="p1">Mimi is lovingly enveloped in Jaehyun’s arms, her besotted expression so overwhelming you’re forced to look down at your palm, where the thin line of red is darkening. A blossom ceremony. Jaehyun and Mimi are going to have a blossom ceremony.</p><p class="p1">“Who wants another round of drinks?” you ask as you glance back up with an inviting smile, totally disloyal to your true feelings that no one seems to pick up on.</p><p class="p1">“Me!” Johnny raises his hand, and from beside you Yuta requests, “Another beer, please!”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll go with you,” Mark offers, then pulls out your chair for you.</p><p class="p1">The two of you walk over to the bar in silence, and you put in the various drink requests to the bartender. It’s only when you lean your side heavily into the wooden structure that Mark rubs at the back of his head and chuckles, “You know, I always assumed that we would’ve had the first blossom ceremony in our friend group.”</p><p class="p1">That is absolutely not where you thought he’d take this conversation. So much of his speech, the letter, the announcement, everything, has gone undiscussed between the pair of you, but this comes up instead. Funny.</p><p class="p1">“You did?”</p><p class="p1">“I mean, I think you know I’ve never really liked you in that way, but it sort of made sense, didn’t it?” His little laugh is wistful and sad, recalling a time when you’d both been so much happier.</p><p class="p1">You still remember seeing him at the train station, how you’d never seen anyone with pink hair before, how you were practically each other’s shadows both as teens and as young adults. He’s never liked you in that way, nor you him, but it’s too much of a classic trope to ignore. You smile softly and agree, “Yeah, I thought so too. It would’ve been a fun story. Rich son’s family saves poor, abandoned girl and they fall in love. The long-lost ideal match.”</p><p class="p1">“I think Jeno wanted it to happen too,” Mark adds on with his own knowing grin. J asking <em>Is it my brother?</em> was proof enough of this, of his ever present childlike hope.</p><p class="p1">“That kid wanted everything to happen,” you sigh, leaning your head into your propped up hand. You can’t help the extremely personal question, one you wouldn’t have had a care throwing out before, but are careful about now, “But seriously. Is there… anyone?”</p><p class="p1">He shoves his hands in his pockets, foot toeing at an errant floor tile, “No, not that it matters. I buried my seed packet with Jeno. Whoever I end up with just has to deal with it.”</p><p class="p1">“I should’ve done that,” you lament, fingers toying with the edge of your glass. “Burying your seed packet sounds a hell of a lot better than letting it haunt you now. ”</p><p class="p1">The old Mark comes creeping through in the teasing way he says, “You know you have to have a blossom ceremony before you marry the boy from home, right?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not marrying the boy from home,” you immediately counter, hackles up, anxiety in a peak, erratic breathing not doing you any favors. There's no possibility of a blossom ceremony happening anymore, not a single iota of hope lingers around that future. How can you make him understand this without giving yourself away fully?</p><p class="p1">“You sure about that?” Mark clarifies, with a knowing eyebrow raise to someone behind you. No way. You whip around, and there Kyungsoo is, with his glass of bourbon in his hand. Oh.</p><p class="p1">Mark slithers away with a lecherous <em>I told you so</em> face when Kyungsoo murmurs, “I haven’t been able to take my eye off you all day.”</p><p class="p1">It’s such a heel turn, yet so casual for him to be acting in this lothario inspired way. You'd never thought solemn-faced, serious Kyungsoo could crack the boundary of flirtation, but it's been second nature to him all day, especially now, with one hand cradling his drink, the other in his pocket, pink lips upturned in a grin. You’re not sure you’ve processed his compliment correctly, “What?”</p><p class="p1">There it is, the first time you’ve ever seen him embarrassed, his cheeks going the same rosy hue as his lips. “Oh, uh, earlier you said to try harder while flirting.”</p><p class="p1">“Great attempt dude,” you roll your eyes good naturedly and give him a thumbs up.</p><p class="p1">“I promise I’ll think of something better next time,” he proclaims with confidence, only for his next attempt to be blocked off by Doyoung’s voice coming over the speaker.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>We will be opening up the dance floor to guests now. Gentlemen, since it’s Valentine’s Day, go snatch up the lady you want as your Valentine for a dance!</em>
</p><p class="p1">Though you’re way back where the drinks are being served, there’s a hilarious flurry of motion from around the table, Johnny, Yuta, Winwin, Ten’s faces all turning towards you. Haechan’s and Lucas’s do as well, plus several others that you don’t recognize. Kyungsoo notices it all.</p><p class="p1">“Lucky me,” he hums, putting down his drink. “I’ve somehow skipped to the front of the line.”</p><p class="p1">That earns Kyungsoo a second eye roll, but you don’t tug your hand away when his folds over it. “Cocky.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo tucks you into the reclusive space between his frame and the nearest empty corner of the ballroom, the two of you doing more swaying than actual dancing. It’s the first moment of peace since everything detonated with Mimi’s announcement, and the sensation of Kyungsoo’s hand on yours is the lighthouse beacon of luminescence guiding you to safety. You've slow-danced exactly three times, once with Yuta at prom, and once each with Johnny and Jeno at Changmin's blossom ceremony. This feels more bizarre yet more natural than all three.</p><p class="p1">“Did you…” you venture gingerly, at a moment when the music swells into a dramatic crescendo that can mask your conversation. “Did you ever think about having a blossom ceremony with that someone?”</p><p class="p1">You feel the flex of his fingers around yours as his lips thin out in a mute response, “Well, I told you I wanted to marry her, so yes. I did. But I couldn’t care less about it at the time, because she wasn’t from here, she didn’t have a seed.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve never seriously contemplated that scenario before, what you’d do if you’d fallen in love with someone that wasn’t from Neozone, if they’d still be able to nurture your flower into flourishing. You’d assumed for so long that, well, that they’d be from here.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s cheek ghosts past yours as he holds you closer, and goes on, “I mean, I guess I’m curious, to know if I’ll ever see the cyclamen blossom under someone else’s hand or if it was really only hers that could’ve done it. But again, I told you, that I don’t think I’m ever going to reach that point with anybody.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” your mouth betrays you. “Me too.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo pulls back to look at you straight on, eyebrows shooting up in interest, “You thought about what I said yesterday?”</p><p class="p1">“Jeno, he,” you sigh, each rush of air woven with his remembrance, “He wanted me to be happy. That’s it. And this situation does not lend itself to that.” No kind of happiness can be spun out of the position you’re in, not at all. That means you need to remove yourself from the equation entirely. Before the concept of being happy is lost to you forever.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is amused by his discovery of Johnny, Yuta, and Mark hovering uncomfortably close, and he jokes, “So, which of those three am I going to rub this in their face, huh?”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n?”</p><p class="p1">Out of instinct, you completely fold yourself behind Kyungsoo’s frame at the sound of your name, barely peeking out over his shoulder to see, “Jaehyun?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s eyes roam all over you, your exposed shoulder, Kyungsoo’s hand on your waist, your fingers in his. “What are you doing?”</p><p class="p1">“Dancing,” you say simply. “Happy birthday.”</p><p class="p1">“Hey man, happy birthday,” Kyungsoo clears his throat and sticks out his hand for Jaehyun to shake, whilst keeping his other hand firmly on yours. Jaehyun shakes it, because he’s ever the gentleman, but it’s not hard to miss the displeased clench of his jaw. What is going on with him? Is he still feeling hungover or something? He’d been annoyed last night when you brought up Kyungsoo coming over as well.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n! You’re here too, good!” Mimi chirps as she rushes over to join the conversation, and this is getting too out of control for you. You don’t want to smooth things over with a platitude that her boyfriend won’t pick up on, can’t have her bringing up the blossom ceremony, not now, not yet.</p><p class="p1">It's also because you can't really look at her gown right now. You soak in great pride whenever one of your pieces is completed, this should be the one that brings you the weightiest load of that bursting feeling. This is the first garment you've made after your injury, you should snap a thousand pictures and save the memory for future recollection. But there's too much pink, it's way, way, way too much cotton candy happiness. How would the dress look with a galaxy burst of white, quiet melancholy across the bodice and hem? Would it look as perfect as you're imagining? You'll settle for that train of denial, that the idea of a dress covered in sewn stellaria would outdo the perfection of the universe, that's why you could never sew a dress like this for yourself. </p><p class="p1">You blanch, raising a feeble hand to the trio of chatting guys, “I, I think John needs me. I’ll be only a second. Sorry.”</p><p class="p1">That’s not at all true, the only thing Johnny probably needs is for you to stop flirting with Kyungsoo, but it’s a semi-viable lie they can’t deny. You pick up your skirts and accelerate into a dignified enough walk-run that gets you out of Jaehyun’s proximity as soon as possible.</p><p class="p1">“What was that about?” Mark chortles when you’ve joined the group, taking in your distressed expression.</p><p class="p1">“Just wishing Jae a happy birthday,” you move the conversation along swiftly, “you guys have the petals for the procession?”</p><p class="p1">“Yup,” Johnny confirms, hiking a finger towards the exit, “they’re waiting outside for the walk back, hopefully they don’t wilt in the hour we have left. But god, prepping flowers for their blossom ceremony is going to be so much harder.”</p><p class="p1">As if Johnny’s voice has lit a fuse, Mark immediately bursts into a mocking song and dance, pointing between the pair of you, “You two are next, you two are next, you two are neeeeext!”</p><p class="p1">Your hand goes to cover your face in awkwardness as Yuta throws his arm around you and sarcastically affirms, “I might have to relinquish my claim after John so nobly side stepped the strip club.” He shoots you a <em>I'm only saying that to joke, don't take me seriously </em>look - in reference to your conversation after the night at Bomb's Away - but you're too blank to react in any sort of funny way.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>It’s not you, Yuta. </em>
</p><p class="p1">“Y/n hasn’t even agreed to a second date!” Johnny holds up his arms in defense, glancing at you in a panic to ensure he’s not making you uncomfortable.</p><p class="p1">You’re uncomfortable, but it’s not him making it so. And he is so earnest in his obvious affection for you that you cave, “I’m sorry. We should go out again.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Nor is it you, John. </em>
</p><p class="p1">“What are we talking about?”</p><p class="p1">You have no idea how the other boys don’t pick up on you severe flinch the moment you hear Jaehyun’s voice, the cowering step you take away from him as Yuta waves, “Hey, birthday boy! Just talking about how y/n and John might bypass their second date for their own blossom ceremony.”</p><p class="p1">“What?” Jaehyun bites out as he turns and shoots his hard stare your way. You shrink back under the crushing blow of his displeasure, defenseless without Kyungsoo in front of you. Yuta was joking, but is this not the same scenario? Jaehyun had announced his own blossom ceremony only minutes before.</p><p class="p1">“They’re being idiots,” you mumble, then a flash of pink catches your eye. Mimi and Kyungsoo are still chatting, she's doing her best to remain the perfect, oblivious hostess. But the way her neck cranes in your direction gives away that she’s wondering why Jaehyun’s wandered off, probably recalling the doubt her friends had instilled in her mind at the dress shop. You point it out dully, “Your girlfriend is looking for you again.”</p><p class="p1">When everyone in the circle turns to look at the same moment, you plan your hasty exit, before Jaehyun can acknowledge you’re right, “I’m going to check on the flowers. Make sure they’re holding up.” And you slip into the shadowed, muted space of the empty hallway. </p><p class="p1">You have always been a sucker for fragrant blooms, they’re usually intoxicating and essential and everything lovely in a scent that you’d want to smell forever. But the minute you step out into the foyer, the cloying sweetness starts to claw at your nostrils, obliviating your consciousness and replacing it with the headache from earlier.</p><p class="p1">Despite that, you sink onto the bench by one of the buckets, scooping up a handful of the velvety petals to examine what they’ve picked out. First, the beautiful blue-grey sage, to bring Jaehyun health and fortitude. Sheaves of wheat, for wealth and prosperity in his future prospects. Fragrant and vibrant lavender, red and yellow roses, and bell shaped lily of the valley for unadulterated happiness. Those are more or less what everyone else usually has in their procession mélange, you’d arranged this yourself for his twentieth birthday.</p><p class="p1">But there is one distinct essence you can’t quite pick out, so your fingers go rustling through the container to try and find what had piqued at your nose. When you see it, the white flower of the orange blossom, you’re hit both by that familiar citrus scent and an excruciatingly fierce tsunami of realization. Orange blossom, for good fortune. And good luck in marriage.</p><p class="p1">You hurl the bloom back into the pile, as if it’s seared right through the slice on your hand.</p><p class="p1">You must’ve been out here darkly contemplating for way too long, because you hear Doyoung call for the procession to start forming. You literally sprint off into some errant side alcove that is deserted, plastering yourself to the wall so that no one spots you and your stupidly heaving chest. You hide there, efforts to control your breathing doing absolutely nothing, until all of them have filed out of the mansion. It’s only then that you dart back inside, grab your stuff, scoop up a handful of the remaining petals, and head out into the cold, folding into the rear of the march.</p><p class="p1">There’s easily a hundred people in this crowd, but despite the distance, you can pick out Jaehyun’s curly honey brown hair right in the front, can hear the silvery ring of his laughter as the petals start to fall on him. On his twentieth birthday, you’d been right at the head of the commotion, you and Mark flanking Jaehyun’s sides as you purposefully threw the flowers in his face. You'd pelted him with the petals and screamed in laughter at the top of your lungs and swore to yourself in that moment you'd ever know sadness again. But that was the hallmark of being young, you suppose. Wishing for silly things like eternal happiness.</p><p class="p1">Mark has taken his requisite spot at Jaehyun’s right arm, but this time around it is Mimi to his left, her hand linked with his as she lovingly brushes off the petals that stick to his jacket. It will be like this for the rest of Jaehyun’s birthdays, this is the way it will always be.</p><p class="p1">You can’t help but feel the dramatic notion that the walk to your home is being ruined by all these outsiders, that this is no different from right after you’d come back and everyone ventured up the hill to see if you were inside. This is supposed to be your safe haven, where the worst thing that can happen to you is your bedroom light exposing your every move. But you’re marching up the hill now with half the town, the electric fence already wide open for the head of the procession to enter.</p><p class="p1">The crowd has sandwiched themselves to the front of Jaehyun’s house, several people climbing up onto the fountain so that they can see him and his family properly, where they’re standing on his veranda. You have to do the uncomfortable thing, to crush through the masses in haste, because you need to get home, you can’t stand here like this and watch. You don’t elbow or shove, you slip quickly and quietly in and out of the pockets of space and manage to get up to the patio of your house.</p><p class="p1">When you step on your welcome mat, you hesitate. Gently twisting your head backwards, you have a straight shot view of Jaehyun standing in the same position you are at his home. He’s noticed your bedroom light many a time, it wouldn’t be too out of the realm of possibility for him to look up right now and see you here. <em>Look up, Jaehyun. Look up.</em></p><p class="p1">He doesn’t.</p><p class="p1">Instead, he lets his father open the door to his house, the house that the Regent’s expressed his hatred for so many times, and goes inside. You turn back around and reach to open the door but find you can’t physically do so. You glance down, and you still have the handful of petals crushed in your fist. Apt metaphor.</p><p class="p1">“Happy birthday, Jaehyun,” you whisper, before tossing the petals out on your doorstep, and entering your home.</p><p class="p1">Well, thank god that’s over.</p><p class="p1">With a sigh, you discard your shoes and bag by the entrance without bothering to put them away. You begin to slowly make your way up the stairs to your bedroom, hand gripping the railing, an unusual gesture but a necessary one, because you’re not sure you possess enough leg strength to ascend the stairs yourself. You make it up to the landing, hand still on the rail, and then your fingers snag on a bit of wood.</p><p class="p1">What, what is that? Your railing is made out of matte black iron, not lumber.</p><p class="p1">You haven’t turned on any of the lights, it’s still as dark as the winter night in here, so when your fingers pick up what they’d come into contact with, you’re not entirely sure what it is. But when you turn, and the cascade of moonlight comes spiraling in through your wall of windows, you lose any capacity to drum out another beat of your heart. There’s the house here on the hill, the green grassy knoll, the river. The field of stellaria. You were going to add in Jaehyun’s flower, but you didn’t know then what his flower seed was.</p><p class="p1">Honeysuckle. It’s honeysuckle.</p><p class="p1">You know this because he’d been here last night, and told you so.</p><p class="p1">You harshly exhale in discomfort as your fingers press into the cut you’d razed open into your palm at the party. No, no, this can’t be it, this can’t be the reality of it. Jaehyun’s gift is still lost, somewhere in your drawers or in your closet, not here on the railing, where he’d put it after you’d divulged the heartwrenching truth behind your letter to Mark.</p><p class="p1">It’s impossible that he’d placed your needlepoint here so he could have a free hand to hold yours, so he could have a clear mind to beg you not to lie about what you were saying. There’s no possibility he could’ve done that, to hesitate in a lush second of longing, before he’d kissed you here, right outside of your bedroom. Ludicrous and unfathomable are the two words to describe the recollection of you cradled in his lap, his hands on you pliable, his voice a tender lullaby, <em>How are you so pretty, even like this?</em></p><p class="p1">There’s just no way. There’s no way.</p><p class="p1">These are the rantings of a woman who’d been so drunk last night she’d dreamt all of this, right? You’d definitely brought the needlepoint out and left it here so you wouldn’t have to see it. You’d thought up honeysuckle as Jaehyun’s seed solely because it is the flower of devoted affection. You’d imagined those alluring compliments as a manifestation of all your secret desires. There’s no proof.</p><p class="p1">You throw your bedroom lights on haphazardly, and you have to catch yourself on the doorjamb when you see what awaits you inside. Your grey comforter is folded up at the edge, where you’d tossed it aside in the morning in your haste to get up.Your requisite glass of water is there on the nightstand, half filled. There is your pillow, in its usual cream pillowcase.</p><p class="p1">Next to it, though, is the navy spare pillow you usually keep hidden away in the closet.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Thank you.</em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>It’s just a pillow</em>.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Thank you for everything.</em>
</p><p class="p1">You move at light speed, scrambling up onto your bed to snatch up the errant pillow and heave it into your still open closet, but the damage has already been fractured into you. You bolt out of the room, down the stairs, and onto the tiniest, hidden away fragment of your couch. You fold yourself into the scratchy material of your skirt, wrapping your arms around your knees as you selfishly plead for a sign, something, anything from your fatigued heart that you’re making this up. But the muscle is as disloyal as ever, splintering into an infinity’s worth of unrequited despair. He’d been here last night. Jaehyun had been here last night, and had slept with you in your bed.</p><p class="p1">But that is not all, oh, that is not all.</p><p class="p1">Last night, you’d confessed to Jaehyun that you wanted to marry him. And he responded by announcing his marriage to someone else.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>y'all are going to hate me lmao but i promise. this is for a reason.</p><p>thank u for reading!</p><p>just wanted to put in a side note: i absolutely do not condone or want cheating (or whatever this might be) to be romanticized as a result of this story. i wrote this intending to explore complex relationship dynamics and situations, and i would never be flippant about something so serious. please do not cheat on your partners irl LOL</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. narcissus pseudonarcissus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You two better not let Jefferson rub Jaehyun’s pending engagement in my face that much longer.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>like i've touched upon before, this fic is about human emotions, communication, relationship breakdowns, angst, etc. i think it will feel natural to become frustrated as certain events in the plot unfold. i ask you with much gratitude to have patience with me. plot lines will go places, things will get resolved, but it might not be as fast as you like. i hope it doesn't turn you off from the fic if things aren't resolved in the next chapter! i respect all of you for reading with me so far and would love to have you continue with me no matter what! </p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There shouldn’t be a gumdrop of bright yellow trying to poke out of the cluster of green lives on the corner by the cafe, trying to blossom into chipper daffodils this early in the year. Just because the winter has been curiously warm does not mean it is safe for them to take their brave entrance into the world. <em>Those are so atrocious</em>, you think to yourself, brain completely rotten through with the dark, unbecoming thought. <em>So, so, so atrocious. </em></p><p>“Y/n? Y/n, are you listening?”</p><p>Your eyes dart up from the spot they’d been honed into through the fence of the outdoor seating area. Kyungsoo’s hair is blowing to and fro in the burgeoning spring breeze, his hand is looped around the handle of his coffee cup as he lounges. Had he been talking? You really have no clue. </p><p>You shake your head. “No.”</p><p>He takes another sip of his latte before repeating himself, “I said, you disappeared last night after the procession.”</p><p>Now you know why you’d forcibly shut him out. You wonder how long he’d searched you out in the crowd, if he’d come to the guard at your door and asked to be announced. If you’d truly been so entangled in the mayhem of your splintering existence that you hadn’t heard the ring of your doorbell, the creaking hinges, coaxing call when you presumably didn’t respond. You wonder how you’ve even gotten down to this outdoor patio, sitting here in your no nonsense sweater and jeans, so sure last night you’d end up living out the rest of your days in that gold dress, too paralyzed to take it off. </p><p>“Yeah, I wanted to sleep,” you mumble, and don’t even have to fake the pealing yawn that bursts from your mouth. “I didn’t sleep that much the night before because I was so drunk.” You’d pulled another all nighter last night, huddled on a cushion of your couch, terrified to make it back up to your room, to look upon your sheets again. </p><p>Kyungsoo appears primed with some kind of sarcastic retort, but doesn’t get the chance to deliver it as a result of the very enthusiastic, “Y/n, hi!” that rings out.</p><p>Fuck, fuck, fuck. Apparently the state of disorientation you’re in did not give you the foresight to warn Kyungsoo from indulging in his desire to sit outdoors, in the lovelier than usual February morning. That means you’re the metaphorical one holding the gun to your head to keep your gaze in place. You're the one forcing yourself to watch Mimi and her boyfriend come strolling down the street, hand in hand, matching in their camel pea coats, trailed by the requisite Neozone guards that are around when John’s off duty.</p><p>To make any other gesture is too obvious, too much self sacrifice. So, you press your hand directly against the scalding ceramic of your boiling cup of coffee, and arrange your face into a pleasant smile. Ignoring the sear of pain that shoots into more than one apex of your body, you greet them in return, “Mimi. Jaehyun.”</p><p>You assume you’re destined to experience this every time he crosses into your orbit from here on out, the peculiar weight of an iron fist crushing itself into your chest to strangle the shards of your heart left behind. Like, are you going completely crazy right now? Does he not feel a single morsel of trepidation in his pretty body right now as he stares in nonchalance? Not even by proxy, as you’re sure the feeling is practically radiating off you?</p><p>You think that the fence separating your table from them is going to provide some sort of barrier, but Mimi crosses it without hesitation, to reach over and pat you on the shoulder.  It’s a meaningless action, intended kindness belying its condescension, what she’s going to try and make amends for right now. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for the amazing dress at the party, it was seriously so beautiful.”</p><p>“You are welcome,” you reply, politely yet thinly. You didn’t even have to search extra hard for her hidden words, <em>thank you for actually finishing it on time</em>, the nervous dart of her eyes to her boyfriend and back down to you exposes her.</p><p>It wouldn’t be vengeful retaliation for you to regurgitate every moment from that night, right now, would it? It’d surely be classified as justified comeuppance, for the awful things she’s said about you.</p><p>“Now that we’ve officially announced our ceremony, I can finally talk to you about all the ideas I have for the gown that I want to wear! It’s going to have to be much fancier than this, I have so many pages and samples bookmarked already, we’re really going to have go all out on this one.” </p><p>The words come marathoning out of her mouth in such an enthusiastic mishmash of nonsense that you can only dumbly glance up at her and mumble, “I’m sorry, what?”</p><p>“I want you to sew my blossom ceremony dress, silly.”</p><p>The burn of the hot mug against your skin isn’t even touching the amount of sensation necessary to replace what is draining out of you right now. You think you’re making the question up in your head, the type of query irritatingly familiar to you, but you look at her again and she is waiting expectantly for your answer, bouncing on her feet. </p><p>If you were a good person, you’d say yes in an instant, being careful to mention that you’d like monetary compensation this time, no longer satisfied by the exchange of your precious work for her boyfriend’s presumed happiness. But you’re not, instead consumed with such a hateful, hateful kind of jealousy that’s devouring you from the inside out. Only a bad person would be provided with visions of all the specific, cruel ways one can ruin a dress, the pointed humiliation that can be designed into a garment, in the way you’re picturing now.</p><p>You cannot let your true self ever see the world, no matter what, so you fumble for the blandest excuse you can give, “I, uh, I don’t think I’m going to be able to.”</p><p>“What?!” she exclaims, and while you predicted her disappointment, she seems to already be one strand from a complete breakdown.</p><p>“Um, I. I, uh,” you stutter, trying your best to come up with something, anything, that doesn’t make you look like a complete bitch.</p><p>Kyungsoo, forgotten by you in the midst of this harrowing exchange, speaks up to smooth out the ragged edges chopping up between you two women, “I’ve already commissioned a number of pieces for y/n to make before I return to Pandora, without realizing that you might also require her services. I can compensate you if you need to find another seamstress.”</p><p>Wow, you’re going to have to buy him a beer or ten with how believable that lie was. </p><p>“This isn’t just a find another seamstress and move on, this is y/n!” Mimi’s careening into panic mode, first completely berating Kyungsoo, next pleading with you, “You saw how everyone adored the dress! I need you to make this one!”</p><p>You hate that you’re going to finally pull this card, after so many instances of avoiding it plainly, but it’s the only ace you have left in your hand. It doesn’t even take that much to let the choke creep up back into your voice, to let your fingers nervously tap against the table as you quietly say, “I told you that your dress was the first thing I’d sewed in a year, right?”</p><p>She lets out a gigantic huff, “Yeah, but so what? It turned out beautifully.”</p><p>“The last shirt I ever sewed was for Jeno,” you murmur sadly, and your voice’s following drop to a whisper isn’t even purposeful. “Sewing again dredged up way more hurt that I thought it would.”</p><p>Your embroidery has unearthed way too much sentiment that it ever should have. If you’d never made that stupid fucking needlepoint of the hill, then maybe you wouldn’t be here, with your hand blistering away under your cup of coffee. You don’t think a fresh round of tears is going to befall you until you hazard your first glance away from Mimi, to the person by her side. While she won’t ever possess enough empathy to let this one go, her boyfriend will absolutely believe the lie. This is targeted. He might’ve exposed himself as not giving a shit about you otherwise, but he knows for a fact that Jeno is the one thing you will never waver on.</p><p>The moment your glassy eyes meet Jaehyun’s, he confirms your theory by lowly hissing to his girlfriend, “I told you this already, I wasn’t going to ask her to sew my jacket because of that!”</p><p>Mimi gives it back, “She had no problem doing mine!”</p><p>You close your eyes, not wanting to witness an intimate argument between the pair, and sigh, “I’m very sorry. And I will compensate you in finding another seamstress, if you wish.” </p><p>That’s the final word, Mimi has no leg to stand on now to persuade you any further, it’s clear to her now that there’s no possibility of you doing this. Especially recognizing that her boyfriend will give her hell if she gives you hell, which is deliciously ironic. She snags his arm and pulls him out of earshot before he can do any more unnerving staring, and the two end up stalking off back down the sidewalk they came from, argument continuing. </p><p>“Are you okay?” Kyungsoo wonders, even as the two of you continue to watch the two of them go off at each other.</p><p>“Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”</p><p>“That was all… bizarrely intense.”</p><p>It’s clear he intended to say so much more than only that, and you dig deep to joke, though it doesn’t feel like the mood to, “That’s a way to put it nicely, how politically astute of you.”</p><p>“Okay going to take my politician hat off now and put on my friend one. Because we’re friends and stuff,” Kyungsoo says as he finally turns back around to look at you. Though his serious black eyes have never been that intimidating, when turned upon you now, they induce the notion he might know more that he’s letting on. “You didn’t say a single thing about little man upsetting you while you were sewing. Obviously I wasn’t there for the whole thing, but what’s not adding up here?”</p><p>“You’re right. I lied,” you bluntly state, not seeing the point in doing otherwise.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>You swap the story out for a truth, just not <em>the</em> truth, “I simply did not want to sew for her. She talked mad shit behind my back to her friends, after I told her a very personal story about J.” So much for trying to be friends with her for Jaehyun’s sake anymore. Can’t be friends when there’s no trust, a sentiment you’re realizing has finally extended to him. </p><p>“What kind of shit?” Kyungsoo probes, low and irritated, repeating himself when you stay silent. “Y/n, what kind of shit?”</p><p>It’s truly fucked, that your mind flies to the way Jaehyun had interrogated you about your hand that time at his house, how upset he’d been. Are you doomed to making these connections forever? </p><p>Your lips flatten into a displeased line, then you give it to Kyungsoo as neutrally as you can, “She was mostly worried that I’d steal her boyfriend with my sob story. Her girls expressed similar sentiments about the men they’re interested in, my friends that you’ve met.”</p><p>“Broody bodyguard, tall tree, and Mark?” Kyungsoo asks with a knowing smile, privy to the pointed interactions you’d shared with the men in your proximity, both in person and through Jeno’s stories. </p><p>“Those are the ones,” you affirm. <em>And said curly haired boy who lives across the plaza from me</em>.</p><p>His index finger taps across the nail of yours as he carefully maneuvers into a suggestion, “I’m not saying you need to make a statement, but maybe you should clear the air? Finally get it out there, what you really want people to know?”<br/>
 <br/>
The idea of standing at city center, megaphone in hand, blasting to the heavens that Jaehyun Jung was the boy you wanted to marry, is a total farce. The idea of letting that information slip out once, to anyone beyond Jeno, fills you with such a crippling belly of bitter laughter that you hide it with a familiar gag that he’ll think nothing of, “You’re just saying that so you can be first in line.”</p><p>His hand moves from lying on the orbit of yours to enveloping it fully, his eyes going from concerned to devoted, his words transforming from careful to resolute, “I’m saying that because I care about you. And I want you to not have to live like this anymore.”</p><p>Kyungsoo means well. He means oh, so well. But it is far too late for that now.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>You really need to get a grip on yourself, because if you keep allowing the night guard to let people slip into your home without realizing you’re doing so, you’re going to have an extremely rude punch in the face waiting for you one of these days. It is fortuitous that the punch today is only a very unsure Yuta and Johnny, staring at you down on the couch. Ah, yes, they’re here because you’d called them.</p><p>You gesture them to sit across from you, and Yuta tentatively breaks the silence first, “Are we in trouble?”</p><p>John nervously eyes you as well, “Yeah, we’re here without Mark or Jae, which is weird.”</p><p>There’ll probably never be an instance when Yuta, John, Mark, and Jaehyun are all in your house again like they had been before. There are certain existences that can no longer cross the threshold of your front door. </p><p>“Y/n? Y/n? You good?”</p><p>You snap to, and Yuta is lowering his hand from where he’d been waving it in your face. Your fingers go through the end of your braid, and you sigh, “Yeah, sorry. Thank you for coming all the way up here. And you’re not in trouble. You never could be with me.”</p><p>They glance at each other once more, and Johnny has his confusion written all over his face, “Okay, now I’m more than a little lost.”</p><p>“We need to have an honest discussion about a topic we have been pretty steadfast in avoiding,” you can’t let go of speaking in platitudes, you don’t want to do this, you can’t force it out, why had you even taken Kyungsoo’s stupid idea to heart?</p><p>“What, the strip club thing?” Johnny sheepishly ducks his head, pink fuzz curling onto his cheeks. “I said that as a huge joke, I really didn’t mean any harm with it.”</p><p>“John,” Yuta whispers forcefully as he elbows his friend in the side. “Shush.”</p><p>You really wish he hadn’t done that. You needed another minute of Johnny’s nervous babbling to stave this off for a moment longer. But the spotlight is on you now, their gazes plus the afternoon sun beating at your back, and that forces all the air out of your lungs, “I have never purposefully tried to entangle you in the discussions about my personal life. But last year, I said something that did so anyways.” There’s no hiding what this is going to be about now, they stiffen once they register your meaning, and already you’re struck with audible emotion, “It has made the water between us unbelievably murky, forced us into a situation I never, ever wanted to end up in.”</p><p>“Y/n…”</p><p>“I owe you the truth, told straight from my lips, that hasn’t been ground to dust in the rumor mills.”</p><p>You’ve done no planning, no script preparation for this, if your heart intends to betray you with the truth it will, but you’re hoping it will look upon you kindly and ward off the killing blow. You bury your hands deep into the blanket over your legs and start quietly, “I said what I said in an effort to make Jeno happy, nothing more, nothing less. There’s no deep dive into it, no psychological picking apart of my motivations. He asked me to talk, and I said the first thing I could think of that I knew would make him happy.”</p><p>“I wasn’t totally sure of it then, it’s taken me quite a while to unpack,” you hesitate, at the threshold of your heart’s decision of what to do, then it falls all the way out, “but the boy I was referencing didn’t exist. He was somebody I made up.”</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Yuta whispers, in a tender tone so as not to upset you. “I was under the impression you actually told J somebody’s name, based on his reaction.”</p><p>Yes. From your lips to the boy’s ear, two syllables. <em>Jaehyun</em>.</p><p>“There was a night. No, not even a night, maybe an hour, maybe even fifteen minutes, where my mind took a fantastical leap and convinced me of the context I’d unconsciously been waiting for. What the context did was conjure up a person I thought I would want to spend the rest of my life with, someone who didn’t exist in reality.” </p><p>There’s no explanation for it other than a vision, a vision of a handsome boy on the greenhouse steps next to you, a boy that had hidden a photo of you away in his wallet for years. A boy you’d wanted to dance with that night, a boy you’d thought of as another kissed you. A boy you were so convinced was meant for you you’d rushed right home and uncovered the identity of your flower seed, sure he’d be the one to make it blossom.</p><p>Your lips softly quirk in apology as you turn to Yuta, hazy mist tangible over his eyes at your story, “Which is a very convoluted way to say that I wasn’t talking about you,” and then you incline your head to a sniffling John, “or you, or Mark, or any real man here I’ve been fortunate to cross paths with.”</p><p>You’re one heartstring’s breadth away from sobbing into oblivion, you focus your eyes on the useless decorative bowls on your dinner table and force the rest out, “So, I am sorry. I’ve owed you both a lot of apologies for a long time. I am sorry for using you as morsels of temptation to hide behind. I am sorry for never speaking up about it before now. I am sorry if the public perception of your personal lives interfered with your true desires, I am sorry if my situation ever forced you into ignoring your own hearts. Above all, I am sorry for agreeing to go on dates with no intention of seriously considering you as viable partners.”</p><p>You’re all adults now, but moment after moment it continues to feel like you’re frozen in that first week you’d came to Neozone, when you’d all been tantalizingly enamored with each other to the point where everyone else was forgotten. But it can no longer be that way. </p><p>“Yuta,” your escort snaps to attention at your call out, and you long to step over, to sandwich yourself into his side, have his comforting arm around yours. But he should not have been turning his attention only to you all these years, his earnest confession outside of Bomb’s Away had been proof enough of that. “I think we’ve been on the same page for some time now, and I have deeply appreciated the effort you have taken on in my stead over the past year. I do wish to release you from my service to allow you to live your own life.”</p><p>It’s a surprise sentiment you hadn’t intended to offer, but he should be free. He deserves more than coming and going at the snap of your turbulent emotions. Even if he does protest, “No, no, there’s nothing I’d rather do than keep watch over you. It doesn’t matter that it won’t be as a boyfriend. If I’m doing it as your friend, or even just your bodyguard, it’s no matter.”</p><p>You think you might do so anyways, or at least relax his hours, so he can start acquainting himself to a life without you. But that impassioned promise from the mouth of your close friend is enough to send the first tear sliding out of your eyes, matching your question, “What about that girl?”</p><p>He takes the initiative to read your silent mind, gets up and steps over the table to sit by your side, to hold you and murmur, “I’m not in a place where I can make that work right now, so don’t worry about me.”</p><p><em>I’m in a situation where I can never actually make it happen.</em> If only you knew, Yuta. If only.</p><p>But while you and your bodyguard had already come to some sort of tacit understanding, even before this conversation, the boy left in front of you has clearly been bulldozed with your revelations. It hurts you deeply to see him like this, that you’re the reason why he can’t look at you right now, why his head won’t turn even when you reach out to take his hand and plead, “John. Johnny.”</p><p>If the universe was a kind one, it would’ve let you fall in love with Johnny. It would’ve let you get to a second date with him, let you kiss him unabashedly at the blossom ceremony without having your first thought after be, <em>Why couldn’t that have been Jaehyun?</em> You should’ve fallen deeply, deeply in love with this man that has been so earnestly affectionate to you for so long, but instead you’re only allowed dark satisfaction, at how loyal a friend he’s been through it all.</p><p>“I love you so, so much,” you whisper, because it’s true. You do love him, as you love Yuta, as you love Mark. “You are the best person I’ve ever known. And you cannot waste your heart on me.” That gets his gaze to careen your way, lips open in protest, and you cut him off before he can, “Ah! Before you say you’re not wasting it on me. You are. You definitely are.” That would be the worst kind of parasitic feeling, John’s dutiful heart feeding yours, sickly starved by a different man’s. Another tear falls, and another, and perhaps it’s manipulative of you to be crying in this way, but you cannot fucking control it. </p><p>“I, uh. Okay,” Johnny blusters, clearly overwhelmed by this display of emotion. He quickly takes a moment to collect himself though, squeezing your hand so tightly within his and swearing, “Of course it’s okay. It’s like Jae said, whatever you want.”</p><p>Ha. What a fucking joke.</p><p>“I thought finally figuring out where I stood in regards to you both would mean I’ve been making progress,” you try to wipe at your tears under pretense of controlling yourself, yet your voice is wobblier than a newborn bird when you whisper, “But I really feel like I’ve only made things so, so, so much worse for myself.”</p><p>That was always the subconscious goal, normal life, normal friends, normal boyfriend. And it seriously feels like none of that is possible anymore. Melodramatic? Sure. Fully dramatic? Yes. Necessary? Absolutely. </p><p>“I just…” Johnny marvels, running a hand through his hair as he tries to make sense of this explosion. “Where did all this come from?”</p><p>“Your best friend is going to get married. Didn’t that make you think?” you wonder, in the first bit of actual truth. </p><p>“Well yeah, but it didn’t make me…”</p><p>The last of his sentence disappears with his hesitation and you prod him on, “You can say it.” Whatever he has to say can’t be worse than anything you’ve heard already. </p><p>“Spiral…. like that,” John finishes with an abundance of caution, and waits for your reaction. You shrug, because that’s not even hurtful. It’s just true. You’re in the dizzying undulations of a spiral right now and have no idea how to get out of it. </p><p>Yuta lets out an exhale, and his sympathetic self is probably reeling, searching for a way to place a bandaid over the wound of it all. He gives it a very valiant attempt, “Jae’s announcement mostly just made me think of how I want us all to grow old together.”</p><p>“Yeah. That’s what I wanted too,” you murmur first, without thinking. </p><p>When they hug you in comfort, the two of them tucking you neatly into the space between them, you pray they hadn’t caught onto what tense you’d used. </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>You spend an exorbitant amount of time just staring at the tulips on the china plate in front of you, lost in the image of the familiar flower that you nearly miss the Vice Premier’s soft, “It has been too long. Since you were here.”</p><p>You can’t even remember the last time you sat in the opulent dining room of the mansion with him, and you know it’s never been just you, him, and Mark like it is now, with Ten in the doorway instead of Yuta. Yuta would’ve shown up with you, but he’d allowed you to cut down his schedule to allow him more freedom, in deference to your conversation. So, your generic Neozone guard is posted beside Ten.</p><p>You’d nearly declined this invitation, but ended up accepting, unable to shoot him down so cold-heartedly. You smile and spear another one of Felix’s roasted asparagus as you say, “Coming here feels like coming home still. Don’t worry.”</p><p>There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and one of the Vice Premier’s new associates is waiting, not Yunho or Heechul, who had gone back to their hometowns after the Lees moved. He bows deeply, then gives the information, “Premier Kim would like to speak with you.”</p><p>“Sure,” VP Lee holds out his hand for the phone, eyes darting over at Mark for only a second, “I think the Pandora Building rededication just finished up.”</p><p>But the employee doesn’t hand over the device, instead his eyes flick your way, “Not you sir, y/n.”</p><p>Premier Kim wants to speak with you… What the hell?</p><p>“Good fucking luck, dude,” Mark coughs over his wine, then reaches over to slap on your arm, the casual friendly gesture bringing back old times, when you’d literally hidden in an alcove to eavesdrop on the politicians.  </p><p>You don’t get up when the phone is your hand, choosing instead to sit in their presence and answer, “Sir. Hello.”</p><p>“Y/n,” Premier Kim’s warm address comes through your speaker, “it has been quite some time.”</p><p>He hadn’t been back to Neozone since, and you obviously have not returned to the capital. Even throughout the Special Forces have been gathering information for the ongoing investigation, you’d not crossed paths in person with the leader of the nation. You hadn’t even spoken to him directly, only engaging in a few phone calls with Taeyeon on his behalf. It feels weird to be speaking to him once more, knowing how friendly and close you had been previously. Jeno's death had hit everyone hard, and the powerful man is apparently no exception to that.</p><p>You defer to him, ever respectful, “The apology is all mine.”</p><p>“The Vice Premier mentioned he would be seeing you tonight, so I figured that would be my chance to check on you,” he explains why you were the one he’d specifically called for, “how has your time with Michael been? Productive?”</p><p>There is a bizarre edge to his tone that you can’t place, but you’re sure it’s from the logistics of helming the event today. Today, the Pandora Building, the seat of Dorado’s government, finally reopened after they spent the entire year renovating it and sealing off the attic where you'd been kept. That lends some explanation to his stress, he'd probably expected the Vice Premier to be by his side, to do his fair share of speech-making and schmoozing, and well, he is here instead.</p><p>Thinking of what Mark mentioned the other night, that they were mostly laying low at home, you quickly formulate an answer you think the Premier will want to hear, “Well, he seems to have been incredibly busy so far, always running to and fro from meetings. It’s been nice to have a quiet moment to sit down.”</p><p>“And have you been sewing again? Do I see another tie in my future?”</p><p>You don’t think you’ll be primed to sew again any time soon, but if the Premier is asking you for a tie, by god, you’ll set about to it. “Of course sir, I only recently resumed the craft once more this month, after I completed my physical therapy.”</p><p>“Glad to hear, y/n. Thank you for serving your region so proudly,” he offers up his gratitude once more, voice sounding nothing like the sarcastic ones people here take up when they refer to you. That should be enough to shove in their faces, Premier Kim holds you in the highest esteem. </p><p>The line clicks dead, and despite your short yet friendly conversation, you let out an exhale. Talking to these men of high importance always stresses you out. You’d almost wished Taeyeon had called again, her serene voice wouldn’t have cranked your anxiety like this. </p><p>“Well,” you blow out a sigh when the phone is out of your grasp, “I think I just lied to the Premier for you.”</p><p>Mark’s father doesn’t have to ask, “He wanted to know what I was up to.”</p><p>“Yeah,” you nod, unsure how you’re supposed to interpret him already knowing what you’d been asked, “me saying you were incredibly busy doesn’t seem to be the truth?”</p><p>He and his son share another loaded look before VP Lee puts down his fork and turns to you, using same careful voice that comes when he has to explain particularly hurtful things, “Truth be told, there was no reason that I came here other than to escape. I didn’t want to be around for the building rededication, to have to give a speech in front of the place where No… left us.  It’s been eerily quiet in the capital, so I figured it would be okay.”</p><p>You’d erased the pending re-inauguration of the government’s most famous building in your mind, hoping to dodge all mentions of Jeno in the newspapers and on the broadcasts. But more so to avoid the pictures they always show, of the four of you at Changmin’s blossom ceremony, the pink fabric threading you all together. </p><p>You choose to sidestep the mention of the other Lee son to ask, “I haven’t seen the news in a long time, it’s really been that quiet?”</p><p>“Forgive the metaphor, but deadly so,” Mr. Lee reveals solemnly, rubbing at his temples with his fingers, “no stirrings of anything, both region’s Regents getting along. It was like the kiddo was the peace treaty we needed.”</p><p>You hope it’s not selfish of you to think that you’d rather have another hundred years of suffering in place of losing one boy’s life. </p><p>Mark darkly stabs at the chicken on his plate, and his joke is equally as demented, “After we tried to declare war, right?” You’re a bit surprised he’s being this sarcastic about it, you would’ve thought he would’ve been all for a war with the region that seemingly had its fingers all over his brother’s death. No matter how many times they’ve denied it. </p><p>“That was the appropriate government response,” his father replies smoothly, the concealed between the lines understanding being that he had done everything he could to keep war from happening. Otherwise, Mark himself might be at the border right now, gun in hand as he razes down another young man who played no role in Jeno’s death. </p><p>“And the investigation?” you ask, trying to focus the conversation away from that. </p><p>“Couldn’t tell you,” VP Lee shrugs, making you feel quite hopeless. If he didn’t know anything, then how were you supposed to feel safe? “They have yet to find any corroborating evidence of a conspiracy those three men were working under, or any further proof that they were actually from Elyxion.” </p><p>They’d been wearing belt buckles from the Growl Conflict era, had blatantly shouted <em>for Elyxion</em>. The alleged perpetrators of Michael’s previous accident had been wearing matching pins. But just as you still feel like there’s a huge piece missing, there hadn’t been enough proof to re-instigate thoughts about war. </p><p>“God, they’re so incompetent,” Mark snarks, utterly displeased. “It’s been over a year. You deserve justice.”</p><p>You shoot him a thankful smile, one he matches with a small one in return, and then his father asks another question mindfully, “Y/n, have, have you heard from your parents at all, in the time we were gone?”</p><p>He’s asking out of concern, yes, but he’s wondering if you’ve called that phone he’s given you, asking if there are any threads that you’ve gathered into a spool of connections to make. You don’t need to tell him that that phone’s been gathering dust for the past year. That you’re convinced they’re dead, that you’re actually hoping so, in order to keep from thinking about them watching you on the TV with every other person in this nation. It's almost been a full relief that the borders have basically been shuttered ever since. It's a great fear of yours, that they'll somehow find you here.  You shake your head, and father and son turn their twin sympathetic gazes upon you.</p><p>You look to the older man beside you. You’ve found yourself addressing him only as the Vice Premier, or Mr. Lee, or Mark’s father. But this is Michael, this is the man who’d been so proud to wear his wife’s flower at his ascension, who’s loved you like a daughter this whole time. You ask the question that’s been eating at you for some time, “Have you heard from your wife?”</p><p>Mark sucks in a breath at you willingly revealing your knowledge of his mother’s situation. But there’s no barriers between the three of you anymore, you’re family. Asking about your mother, his mother, it’s no different.  Michael does not seem fazed that you know, in fact, he’s probably under the impression you’ve known all along. </p><p>His tiny, sad smile is awful, and you know what the answer is going to be, “No.”</p><p>When you and Mark lock eyes once again, dual vials of compassion spill themselves in the air between you. Another stitch is put in place across the rip in the fabric of you two. </p><p>Michael cuts the tension with a shake of his arms and a cheerful chuckle, “Anyways, are we here to discuss incredibly depressing topics, or are we here to have our first family dinner in forever?”</p><p>Both you and Mark start giggling as you salute him in return and bark out, “Yes sir! Should I start with pleasantries about the weather or my personal life?!”</p><p>“Why do I get the feeling you’re preparing to tell me you have nothing going on in your personal life, just like my son,” Michael slyly grins, waving his fork in between you and your best friend.</p><p>“Because your son and I are twin souls in different people,” you profess, honest and true, the thought you’ve always held. As you look at Mark, his face is handsomely neutral, the laugh dissipated, but he is not outright frowning. Even if he does not agree, you feel satisfied that you’ve expressed your thoughts to him, that you’re grateful to have an extension of yourself like this.</p><p>“You two better not let Jefferson rub Jaehyun’s pending engagement in my face that much longer.”</p><p>Michael’s been speculating on your rapport with Mark for years now, surely thinking like many others that you were destined for each other. And while before, you would’ve laughed along with the joke, now it is your turn to dissolve your expression into neutrality. More like, you’re hoping that’s the expression you’re conveying on your face.</p><p> Jaehyun is getting engaged. It’s a foregone conclusion, that his honeysuckle is going to blossom with the water Mimi pours over it, just as his hand will cause the bloom of her lovely peony. He loves her, and she loves him, and all the flowers will do is confirm that to the world. There is no way you can circumvent that, no opportunity to wrench yourself into that set path. Why had you ever stupidly thought you might be privileged to see the honeysuckle flourish under the care of your damaged hands?</p><p>“Dad, I hate to break it to you,” Mark starts out, still neutral, and you brace yourself for his blunt revelation of your fractured relationship. Only to be met by his thoughtful conclusion, “but the only way y/n is going to be in this family is by being my sister, not my wife.”</p><p>Mark smiles at you, truly smiles, big and full bodied, with all of the warmth and joy he’s known for, and the stitches are whipping you together, faster and faster. There’s no fathomable way you could’ve spent an eternity apart, the best way to properly honor Jeno’s memory is to keep it alive, together. And while there are still conversations surely to be had, that fracturing rip is closing all the way up. </p><p>Michael is the one who loops the final stitch through and ties off the final knot, looking between the both of you, eyes misty with pride as he brags, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to rub that in Jefferson’s face instead. He has one good kid, but I was blessed with three.”</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>“Are you avoiding Mark?”</p><p>The copious amounts of alcohol consumed tonight must’ve gone straight to your head and not your liver. You feel your brain sloshing around in your skull when you look up to see Kyungsoo with an amused smile on his face, and nearly spill beer foam all over your shoes.<br/>
 <br/>
“What?” you grumble, feeling the urge to next slosh your cup all over his obnoxiously white tee and red plaid shirt. </p><p>“It’s his going away party and you’re babysitting the keg instead of sitting in there with your friends.”</p><p>He tilts his chin over to the center of the obnoxiously large game room you’re in, where groups of people are sprawled out over the floor and furniture, your aforementioned friend draped over a beanbag chair as he chats with Yuta. He moves his blonde head to reveal a flash of coiled honey lounged behind it, which is enough to shoot your eyes back onto Kyungsoo’s. </p><p>“I’m not avoiding Mark,” you mumble, because you’re not, and you take another sip of alcohol, loosened tongue blithering, “We might be okay, you know? We’re not avoiding each other anymore.”</p><p>“Who are you avoiding then?”</p><p>Well, where do you start when answering this question? Are you supposed to tell him that you’d wanted to leave as soon as Regent Jung opened the door to his home and saw you there on his doorstep, that he’d nearly closed the door on you until Haechan had pulled you inside. Or would Kyungsoo be more entertained by the fact that you’re so affected by the simple sight of the Regent’s son’s curly hair that you’re contemplating going right for the handle of unaccompanied vodka.</p><p>You settle for teasing, “I should be avoiding you.”</p><p>“Y/n, get the hell over here, we need an even number to play Locked Away and Chan had to piss!” Lucas bellows, already three sheets to the wind, once he spots you across the way. Apparently, the answer was Lucas. Because now that he’s called you out, there’s no way for you to slither your way out of this without looking like a complete asshole. </p><p>“Yeah, y/n, get the hell over there!” Kyungsoo mocks your friend while egging you on.</p><p>You literally growl back at him, teeth bared, “Have you seen what I can do with a knife?”</p><p>He chuckles at the gallows humor, the action wrinkling his nose, “Tch. Touchy.”</p><p>You head over to the circle that’s formed, taking care to flip Kyungsoo off from behind your back, but once you see who’s gathered to play the drinking and dare game, you start to protest in a sulky mutter, “Isn’t it against the rules for people in relationships to play this shit or something…”</p><p>The whole point of Locked Away is to get locked in a room with someone and do a lewd dare to get out of it. Really no point in playing if you’re already in a committed relationship, which Mimi and Jaehyun, sitting across from you in the circle, are. But you’re mostly trying to find a way to get out of this impending interaction, if it’s by removing them from your proximity, so be it. </p><p>“Shut up, nerd,” Lucas jabs, having lost his filter with his inebriation, “aren’t you dating John?”</p><p>“Come on man, no!” Johnny protests, shoving his buddy away from him in protest. He’s clearly taking your talk from the other day to heart and doing his best to quell the rumors before they explode any further.</p><p>That is the first public denial from John himself, that he isn’t involved in the shitshow starring you. And just like after every other revelation about your life that has come out in an ungainly, public manner, each head in the circle turns your way. You should be at a point where you don’t care about this anymore, you have understandings in place with the men that matter most. But one flick of a familiar set of amber eyes, and you’re careening into a ravine of extremely uncouth yearning. </p><p>“Give me the fucking bottle,” you grunt with force, wanting to get this — both the topic of conversation and your turn at the game — over with as soon as possible.</p><p>Doyoung hands over the drained beer bottle and you set it down in the middle of the table, setting it spinning with a flick of your fingers. You can feel your dread solidify as the circling comes to a halt, pointing in the direction of none other than Jaehyun, who immediately grimaces when he realizes. Your hand hasn’t left the edge of the table, you’re intoxicated to the point where you’re convinced no one will notice if you just slip the glass a degree to the right. </p><p>“Hey, you can’t move the bottle!” Joy whines as she corrects the neck from pointing to her, back to pointing to Jaehyun next to her. </p><p>“I am not getting in the middle of this. They’re going to get married,” you sarcastically drawl, gesturing back and forth between the couple, who both immediately go various shades of flushed. How fucking quaint. </p><p>“Come on, it’s just a game! I don’t care, I already had to stand in a sex position with Doyoung!” Mimi cackles, drunk and seemingly forgetful about her recent grudge against you. </p><p>Your very last hope, one you didn’t want this to rest on, is for Jaehyun to say something. </p><p>But he’s already digging around in the basket filled with dares and pulling one out. He flashes the slip of paper in your direction, intending to show you the mission inside, but the writing disappears before you can register what you’re going to be doing while locked in that room with him. </p><p>Your eyes dart around in horror, nobody else knows your shared history well enough to allow you to get out of this, not John, not Yuta, not Mark. Rickety legs and an intoxicated mind is not a good combination, you have to pull every single brain cell you have left together to formulate a plan for when you’re in that room. As you dumbly follow behind Jaehyun, so confidently strolling through the basement of his home, you think you’ve settled on the best course of action: you’ll walk right in, head straight to the back of the space and stare at the wall until he realizes that you’re in no mood to play the game and lets you out. That is the safest option.</p><p>But all of that is heaved out the window the moment you accidentally step into the wrong bedroom, one that doesn't have a guard posted outside of it. You feel a warm grasp encircling your wrist, followed by the breathy, “Not that room. This one.”</p><p>There’s not a second of rest from the moment the e has left Jaehyun’s mouth to when he pulls you inside the dusky guest room to when you’re pressed right into the cool wall, his hand carefully placed against the small of your back. It must be the status quo for him to hesitate when faced with this kind of situation, because you feel the peal of his breath across the apex of your lips, the tangential brush of his top lip as it dares to nestle by yours. It’s the most gratifying sensation, the downpour of reprieve you feel once more, realizing that you’ve been completely wrong about this all. His heart is still beautifully yours, he’s preparing to kiss you right now like he’d so pristinely melded his lips to yours in the epicenter of your bedroom, your sanctuary. </p><p>But it’s a sensation you experience for only one heartbeat, because you remember his girlfriend is still in the other room. You roughly shove him off you, snarling, “What the...," before you remember the guard that can surely hear everything, and dip into a harsh whisper instead, "what the hell are you doing?!”</p><p>His hands spring off you like you’re made of scorching magma, and you press yourself deeper into the corner of the room you’re in, arranging yourself to take up as little space as possible and nervously crossing your arms over your chest. There’s no remedy to your accelerated breathing but time, and you try to keep the hyperventilation at bay as you hover in place.</p><p>“Did you think I was trying to get with you or something?” He half laughs with confusion as he takes in your reaction. You must make a very rude face you can’t register the feeling of, which makes him unfold the paper and reveal what had been scrawled inside, <em>Take a picture kissing and send it to the group.</em></p><p>Your displeased reply is instantaneous, “I’m not doing that.”</p><p>“They’re not going to let us out unless they see proof!”</p><p>“I said I’m not going to do that.”</p><p>Jaehyun sighs like he’s preparing to face a petulant child and his words come out in a similar connotation, “I understand that you don’t like me and you’re in love with John, but we only need to do it once to get out of the room, it’s just a game.”</p><p>Is that. Is that what he really thinks? That you see him with nothing more than disdainful indifference after you’d promised your affections to another, when you’d actually hewn out each individual string sewing up your heart and used them to craft the beautiful needlepoint he’d discarded on your stairs without a care? Is there any possibility, any at all, that you’d made that entire night up in your mind?</p><p>“I’m not in love with John,” you whisper again, now more like croak, due to the haggard way your throat starts to close. </p><p>“Oh please,” he scoffs, full bellied and disbelieving. “Mark joked you two were going to have a blossom ceremony. You’ve been on dates and you’ve kissed, what else does that mean?”</p><p>You’re racking your brain, trying to think of a time when Jaehyun would’ve ever come across the two of you indulging in the amorous gesture, taking your turn to look at him in disbelief, “Hold up, John and I didn’t kiss that day you barged in on us. And even if we did, that does not mean I’m in love with him.”</p><p>“You kissed him at Changmin’s blossom ceremony. I saw you.”</p><p>You swallow thickly. It doesn’t seem prudent to ask him if he’s telling the truth or even take this time to spell out the specifics — that John had kissed you first, that you didn’t realize anyone else was around, that the moment he’d asked you out then, you’d been primed to answer with a very influenced<em> I think I like someone else, I’m sorry. </em></p><p>You stand your ground. “My point still stands. It’s no different, then or now.”</p><p>“You went to your first blossom ceremony, literally the best and most romantic thing this city’s ever created, and decided to kiss John. What else could that mean?” He’s unwittingly revealed his true feelings about the event, after so many conversations seemingly confirming he’d held the opposite sentiment. </p><p>This is definitive proof that he had been as enraptured with it as you were, proof that if you’d sat with him on the greenhouse step for a moment longer, he might’ve coaxed that vision into becoming a reality, would’ve taken that moment to place his mouth on yours, wouldn’t have forced you into living a fantasy life. You’ve put in your best effort to lug yourself from the encroaching quicksand of feeling he’s surrounded you with, you’ve flirted and dated and kissed other guys, you’ve spent the past year trying to approach him with disdain in an effort to trick your mind. You’ve hoped, prayed, begged to be let go from this devastating entrapment, but it’s becoming clear that you’re doomed, probably for eternity.</p><p>Honestly, fuck this game.</p><p>Without another word, you stalk back over to the entryway and bang a severe fist against the wood, “Open the door.”</p><p>Haechan’s sing-song voice calls back, “Did you do the dare?”</p><p>“Open the door Haechan, you know what I can do,” you threaten, not in the teasing way you’d ribbed Kyungsoo earlier, with the full brunt of your weapon-baring, killer’s hands. </p><p>The door opens not a moment later, Haechan’s alarmed face peeking out from behind the wood as he looks to you, then up to the guard that's as shocked as he is. Your vision spins at the sudden flood of hazy light, realizing you’d had that whole conversation with Jaehyun in the complete darkness. You stumble back down the hallway you’d came from, and you scan the room three times, not finding who you’re looking for. It’s not until Lucas moves out of the way that you spot Kyungsoo by the keg,  conversing amicably with Mark. With a feral growl that causes Doyoung to yelp when you pass him, you stomp over to where the men are standing and snatch Kyungsoo around the bicep, pulling him away from Mark and shoving him into a secluded hallway. </p><p>He’s tipsy and cackling, trying his best to shove you back in the direction of the corridor of rooms, “What are you doing, get the hell back in there—,”</p><p>“Can we leave?”</p><p>All pretenses of anger or teasing are lost when Kyungsoo hones in on the crack your voice makes over the request, and the generously awful deflation of your shoulders. “Oh. Yeah, of course.”</p><p>He disappears for a second to retrieve your jackets, then firmly grabs your hand and leads you up the stairs, you focusing your gaze one by one on each floor tile you step over. You’d been dangerously close to kissing Jaehyun again, you’d been dangerously close to kissing Jaehyun again, you’d been dangerously close to kissing Jaehyun again. And your mind had been dangerously close to letting itself believe that he was doing so because he’d cared for you. </p><p>“Regent’s son must be an asshole, huh?”</p><p>Your gaze darts to Kyungsoo at his words, but he doesn’t look particularly struck by his line of questioning. He’s only standing on the front step of the mansion, eyes soaking in the crescent moon hung in the sky. Had you accidentally blurted something, clued him in to your internal monologue?</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Well, you went into the room with him and came out looking like you wished you’d brought a knife along,” Kyungsoo’s attempt at humor definitely dies in its tracks when you don’t laugh along. He shrugs and moves on, “Plus, Jaehyun’s acted worse than Mr. Brooding Bodyguard around you in the time I’ve been here. With the added bonus that he’s apparently marrying someone who shit talks you without a care.”</p><p>“He’s just…” you search for the words to speak out against him for the first time, “not even worth the time to call an asshole.”</p><p>“Interesting,” Kyungsoo hums, not interested enough to look back down from the sky, “I always assumed you were really close.”</p><p>“What—,” you splutter. “Why?” You know for sure Kyungsoo does not possess the context to inform him he’s made the correct assumption, so you’re trying to figure out what had given you away. </p><p>“Well, Jeno talked about his brother’s friends, like a lot,” turns out to be the telling clue, poignant enough to almost make you forget why he’s being brought up. The boy wanted all your paths to cross, convinced you’d love each other as deeply as he did. </p><p>“Just because the kiddo liked him the most doesn’t mean we’re close.”</p><p>“No, but if you loved little man, and he loved Jaehyun, then wouldn’t that be a fair assumption to make?” Kyungsoo says softly, and you seize in anticipatory fear at what you’re sure will follow out of his mouth. <em>Wouldn’t that be a fair assumption to make, that you loved Jaehyun too?</em> “That you were close?”</p><p>Close is good. Close is safe enough phrasing for you.</p><p>“I suppose we might’ve been,” you sigh, fingers tangling up in the end of your braid. The hidden meaning is a keenly spotlit billboard, <em>but we’re not anymore</em>. You’re not sure if you would go back in time, take back the things you said and the things you did just to have things remain the status quo, to have Jaehyun by your side as a sturdy friend that you know, or even just your next door neighbor. But it seems like anything would be better than the limbo you’re floating in currently. </p><p>Winwin pulls up in the Mercedes, your saving grace, forcing Kyungsoo to drop the conversation in deference to fulfilling your request, “Alright. Let’s get you home.”</p><p>If you’re on the topic, as you walk over to the driveway, you may as well blandly tell Kyungsoo what you’d forgotten to, “By the way, I told <em>you know who</em> about <em>you know what</em>. You’re the only one in line now, congrats.”</p><p>Understanding your veiled language, that you’d told John and Yuta the truth behind your words, Kyungsoo waves a deadened fist in the air, using a careless tone to chirp, “Yay me.”</p><p>It’s only the alcohol in your body that allows you to joke, “You don’t sound excited.”</p><p>“I don’t sound excited because you don’t sound excited,” he retorts, the repartee of your similarly impassable situations well established between the both of you. That woman he’d loved before has left an achingly beautiful gash in his chest, and your twin emotional wound runs parallel to the scar across your back.</p><p>But it’s Kyungsoo, and he captivates you in a way that no one else can, so you scrunch your face up and exaggerate it just for him, “I am suuuuuper happy you’re the only one still in line. Better?”</p><p>The edge of his lip turns up into a smirk when he nods, and because it feels like the right thing to do, you kiss his cheek once before you get in the car.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>The guard’s knock comes as you’ve turned another page in Pride and Prejudice, and his introduction comes pealing through the crack in the door, “It’s Mr. Lee.”</p><p>No longer does that announcement fill you with any trepidation, you wave a hand at him, “Please send him in.”</p><p>This is an echo of the last time you’d been alone in your home together, when he’d called you some awful things in the frenzy of your heated, final fight. And it’s obvious Mark’s doing the same recollection now as he nervously hovers in the middle of your living room, fiddling with the Bats cap he’s wearing. You motion for him to sit, but he doesn’t, choosing to stand and quietly say, “Dad wanted to come say goodbye, but they called him in with something before he could.”</p><p>You’d wanted to hug the older man, only having done so once at the train station, but that final dinner at the mansion had been sufficient enough closure for this chapter. You nod, “I understand. Please tell him it was wonderful to have him here.”</p><p>“My car’s leaving in fifteen minutes,” he tells you, and is it already that time already? No, it’s too soon for him to leave. </p><p>“I hope you have a nice trip back to Pandora,” you offer, like he’s a regent or official that you know, and not your freaking best friend. </p><p>“Thanks. I hope you continue to do well here.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Both of you are unsure where to take this conversation, and after a few minutes of silence, Mark turns on his heel and heads for the door. You rack your brain, trying to think of what to say to keep him from going in this way, but there’s the tiny whisper of a word that comes, “Guilty.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>He still has his back to you, but you hear him loud and clear, “I felt guilty.”</p><p>You rush to convince him otherwise, that he doesn’t have anything to apologize for, “There’s nothing for you to feel guilty about, I understand what I did wrong…”</p><p>“No, no. That was supposed to be me,” his voice cracks as he finally turns around, solitaire tears darting down his face.</p><p>“Mark….”</p><p>“You can’t try to pull the wool over my eyes,” he sniffs, thumb trying to wipe away the moisture on his cheeks. “I’ve read the case file front and back a thousand times, confirmed with Kyungsoo a thousand more. They mentioned blonde hair.”</p><p>“They could’ve been talking about anyone—,” you attempt, but make it nowhere.</p><p>His scoff is cacophonous, “Don’t be purposefully naive. They were talking about me, they wanted both of the Lee sons. The incompetent fucks at the Special Forces still don’t know why they ended up with Kyungsoo instead, but it’s obvious they’d wanted me." Of course they’d meant Mark, you’d been beaten into submission the time you realized that and tried to physically attack the biggest goon in his defense.</p><p>“Nothing can touch what you went through, but can you even imagine what it was like for me?” He hollowly laughs, as if he’s unable to experience the emotion of happiness again. “To sit there in my own house, to watch on my own TV as my little brother and the person that I was the closest to in the world get tortured, especially knowing what happened to Mom? I still can’t believe I haven’t gone insane with the memory.”</p><p>That’s why you wish time and time again your parents are dead. If they were alive out there in the world, you know they would’ve driven themselves mad with desperation in trying to reach you. </p><p>Mark is revealing all sorts of things you had no idea about, in between his forceful crying, “Dad sobbed on the phone for seven days straight trying to find you, but we could never find a way of contacting them, could never figure out what they wanted. I made a huge scene at the military outpost begging John’s dad to do something. Nothing worked.</p><p>“I didn’t do anything to save my brother, my baby brother, yet you spilled your blood, without hesitation, for a boy you didn’t share a drop of blood with.” He laments, then points a disturbed finger to his chest. “Guilty.” His voice runs through with even more ragged grief as he buries his face in his hands and admits, “But I wasn’t only feeling guilty. I was jealous. That you got to spend his last moments with him, and I didn’t. Which is so fucked up of me to say, but I was.”</p><p>This never should’ve been a competition, which of you got to hold the boy as he died, but you understand it completely. He’d loved his brother so, so much during his life, he’d wanted the opportunity to send him off with the same love. But he unknowingly did. </p><p>You get up from your seat and walk over to him, delicately taking his hand and lowering your voice, “I could never accuse you of being one of those people, who only focused on that specific thing that I said. But you aren’t remembering the full of it.”</p><p>All anyone ever chooses to remember is the boy from home, the romance that had blossomed from the ashes of tragedy. But Jeno had said so much more. </p><p>Mark sniffs, clutching at your hand tightly, “What do you mean?”</p><p>“I truly believe you cannot contemplate the workings of dying until you are faced with it yourself. But it was obvious to me when…” you take a shaky breath, trying to compose the breaks out of your voice, wiping away the moisture collecting on your lashes. You clear your throat, then continue on with strength, “when it was time for him to go, his heart knew what to do. He saw your mom, more than once, and your dad too. Me, for just a moment. And the very last person his heart brought to mind was you.” You reach out to cup Mark’s cheek, to wipe the suffering away, and murmur, “That’s what he said. <em>Marky, you’re here!</em> So you were with him in his last moments.”</p><p>Mark’s face crumples under your hold as the tsunami of recollection crashes over him. If you were two halves of a soul, the Lee boys were two halves of a heart, perfectly imperfect without the other. Jeno had been happy as he went, the memory of his brother sealed inside the two halves brought together. </p><p>“He was right, you know,” he whispers as he finally hugs you, the ardency imbued right into his gesture. “You’re the easiest person to love I’ve ever loved in my life.” Leave it to Mark to also have remembered the most beautiful confession you’ve ever received. </p><p>"I'm sorry, too," you hum into the fabric of his jacket, suddenly spurred on to make a confession of your own. "I never listened to you when you warned me about Elyxion... because I'm from Elyxion. I was born in Tactix."</p><p>There's silence, and you only clutch onto him tighter, unwilling to let him go if this somehow disgusts him to the point that he wants to escape.</p><p>"I know," he admits, and your eyes bug straight out of your head at the reveal. "Dad told me when we were away, and you'd best believe that also added onto my guilt. It all sort of made sense, you know. Because who the fuck is from Zero Mile? Honestly."</p><p>Your head shoots back for a second, to look into his warm, glassy brown eyes that confirm that he's in no way upset you've kept this from him. You can't help the shocked little watery giggle at his totally blasé and crude manner of figuring out your heritage. You've hidden it for so long that you'd been working yourself up into a frenzy, thinking it'd be some explosive reveal when it finally came out. But he's accepted it perfectly, as a best friend should.</p><p>You rest your cheek on his shoulder once more and murmur, “Am I going to see you again? Please tell me I am.”</p><p>Holds you close in his embrace, this time using his sleeve to rub the tracks of tears off your skin, and the corner of his lip turns up in a grin, “Well, we can’t keep up the façade of being fake engaged if we never see each other again, can we?”</p><p>This all so Mark your heart almost bursts apart with delightful, relieved joy as you shake your head. “No.”</p><p>“Mark,” Ten’s even voice calls from the opened door, “we’re almost ready.”</p><p>It’s still too soon for him to leave, but you know now that you’ll be okay. You give him a playful shove in the direction of the door, voice and heart light as you say, “Go on. I’ll call you instead of writing this time.”</p><p>For the second time in the visit, his feet still when they’re on your welcome mat, and he turns back around with a soft, “Bee.”</p><p>You glance at him over your shoulder from where you've turned to head back to the couch, “Yes?”</p><p>“Has Jaehyun…” Mark starts, then stops. The passage of time that encapsulates his pause is filled with endless, dangerous possibility, before he ultimately finishes, “has he been an asshole to you?”</p><p>Your fingers nip at your palm as a startled, “What?” comes out of your mouth. </p><p>Mark’s hands go around the hem of his sweater, nerves showing off as he explains quietly, “I heard you and Kyungsoo at the party, while I was waiting for Ten to pick me up.” <em>Regent’s son must be an asshole, huh?</em> Kyungsoo’s deep voice must’ve rung that thought out in the night particularly noisily. </p><p>You’d like to pride yourself on not being a compulsive liar, but your neighbor seems to drag it out of you, the first lie, “No. He hasn’t.”</p><p>“Why don’t I believe you?”</p><p>You’ve should’ve been smart enough to realize that the twin soul of yours in Mark would expose you immediately, and at his narrowed eyes, you give him the deception, the second lie forcing him to doubt himself, “Because it’s Jaehyun. Do you honestly believe he could be an asshole to anyone?”</p><p>His lips press into a thin line as he ponders your rhetorical question. Jaehyun is inherently a very good person, the flawless prince, the filial son, the faithful boyfriend, there had never been a moment you’d known him to act in a particular, heinous way. But is breaking someone’s heart considered an act of assholery? It might be now.</p><p>“Well, you wrote me a letter, and when I got here in response to said letter, it seemed like you guys….” Mark trails off, again shoving you right into the mindless speculation of what he could possibly say about you two. What had he seen? What had he felt? He is the closest thing you can get to an outsider’s perspective that will illuminate your internal perspective. </p><p>“Go on.”</p><p>His lips quirk once more, like he wants to hold back, but it comes exploding out in an oxymoronic murmur, “It seems like you guys don’t care about each other anymore. Which does not match what was on that paper.”</p><p>No, no, that’s not what Mark’s supposed to say. He’s not supposed to have seen what’s clogged into the cracks, what a seemingly formidable job you’ve done trying to mask your true feelings. That attitude had been perilous and one sided, and certainly not cast out from your direction. </p><p>“I did what I could to get you here. Doesn’t mean the letter was the truth.” The third lie is the worst of them all, because every teardrop that had splattered across your handwritten words had indeed been plucked out by the truth of what you were imbuing into your plea to your friend. </p><p>Mark again does not believe you, it’s written all over his face, his raised eyebrow and pursed mouth, but he holds enough tact not to call you out on your string of falsehoods. Instead, he shoves a hand in his pocket as he types away on his phone, humming, “I’m going to send you something. I think you should listen to it.”</p><p>The subsequent ping of your phone causes to flinch. If you know him, and you do, it’s going to be a carefully crafted audio file of Jaehyun’s silvery voice, in some conversation and context that will scramble your brain again, convince you that he still belongs on the pedestal you’ve stupidly placed him on, persuade you to accept his platonic place in your life. Even if somehow, Mark has the best of intentions with what he’s doing, it’s no matter — you can’t hazard the chance of letting yourself go again. </p><p>“M, this isn’t a problem to be solved,” you whisper, regretful but firm. “Life happens.”</p><p>Ten’s voice again, “Sir. Now.”</p><p>This is the stake in the ground you needed, the cutoff that will prevent him from saying any more, even if it’s for your own good. You lift your hand and wave, “Bye, bumble.”</p><p>“Bye, bee,” Mark dutifully completes the other half of your greeting. “See you soon.”</p><p>You don’t think five minutes has even passed since his departure before there’s another knock at your door, you certainly haven’t even had the time to sit back down and re-open your book. You trudge over to the entrance and fling the door open, preparing to pester the guard, “Did he forget something—,” when the question shrivels away at the sight of Kyungsoo at your doorstep. </p><p>“What are you doing here?” you ask in confusion, looking out to the electric fence that is closed and humming. “Isn’t Mark’s car about to leave?”</p><p>“I came here with him, but that doesn’t mean I’m leaving with him. This is my hometown after all, and I’m not a public figure,” Kyungsoo explains. </p><p>That doesn’t really explain why he’s here this late at night but okay. You ask, “Where are you going to stay? At the mansion like you’ve been?”</p><p>“They offered, but it’d be weird, me there, alone,” he trails off after a particularly ill-concealed grimace, and he goes lightly green at his self suggestion, “I guess get a hotel or something.”</p><p>“You look like that’s the last thing you want to do right now,” he probably hopes you don't notice, but you can’t help but point out his sickly pallor. </p><p>“I uh. I have had trouble sleeping alone after. I don’t mean having someone in my bed, or even in my room… it’s just the comfort of knowing there’s someone else there in the house with me,” Kyungsoo admits, statement full of hesitation. “I think it was because when I woke up in the hospital, I was alone, and that was one of the most frightening moments of it all.”</p><p>You have no idea what you would’ve done if Michael hadn’t been there, and you’d woken up with only Dr. Choi in the room. And you have no idea how much less sleep you would’ve gotten this past year if you hadn’t had that steady porch light streaming through your bedroom window. </p><p>“You can always just stay with me,” you offer without hesitation, then finally notice the backpack and duffel he’s carrying. Your eyes narrow, “Wait, is that why you’re here? Did you plan that I’d do this?”</p><p>“No! No. I came up here to see if you wanted to hang out now that Mark was gone and stuff,” he quickly remedies your suspicion with what seems like honesty, and utilizes your moment of silent contemplation to step inside your house without protest. It’s only after you continue to keep your mouth shut that he senses something’s off with you, “Would it be inappropriate?”</p><p>“What? No," you shrug, unfazed by the potential burst of energy this might give the rumor mill, “who the fuck cares, honestly.”</p><p>Satisfied that you’ve caved, Kyungsoo picks up his bag and begins to head straight for your staircase. He’s got one foot on the bottom step before you cry out, “Wait! Where are you going?!”</p><p>He glances up to your still closed door and back down to your panicked face, “Isn’t your room upstairs?”</p><p>He can’t go into your room, he can’t. It’ll be too much like that time. </p><p>“Um, yeah. But please don’t go up there,” your earnest plea crackles with unexplained emotion, and you’re sure you’re coming off more than a little crazy. “I have a guest room. Or the boys sometimes like the couch…” </p><p>Kyungsoo looks over at your sunken area of cushion, to the blankets and clothes strewn all over the place, and lets out a wry chuckle, “A couch that looks like it’s already being used.” He holds up his hands under the weight of your forceful glare you send him at that, and defers, “Alright, let me get ready for bed so I can be relegated to the guest room like I’m a random mooch.”</p><p>The guest room door closes behind him as you hear the muffled sound of someone talking to your night guard. Not wanting him to exert the effort in announcing whoever the visitor is, you just open the door from where you’re standing. The swing of the door nearly knocks you off your feet, when you see your third guest tonight is a very jittery Jaehyun.</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>“Hey,” you answer, tentative. “Is something wrong?”</p><p>“I was—,” he starts to explain the reason for his visit before he catches sight of the duffle discarded by your shoe rack. “Wait, whose bags are those? Is someone visiting?”</p><p>“Y/n, who is it?” Kyungsoo calls as if Jaehyun’s words summoned him, then comes strolling out of your guest room in only a pair of sweatpants, exposing all of his buff torso. Once he sees who you’re speaking to, his mouth tightens, though he offers a very polite, “Oh, what’s up dude?”</p><p>Jaehyun is so clearly taken aback by Kyungsoo’s presence in your home that he takes a startled step back on your welcome mat, and he stuffs his balled hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. The light on your own porch does quite a magnificent job of highlighting the tense clench of his jaw. </p><p>“What did you want?” you press, because he hadn’t answered your question. If this is an emergency, you suppose you can set aside time to help him out. </p><p>“Never mind,” he bites out, in the way people do when they’re trying to avoid answering. </p><p>“Jaehyun, what?”</p><p>“Never mind!” He half huffs half growls, and literally stomps off of your porch all the way back to his house, the resounding slam of his own front door echoing across the plaza. Dumbfounded at that bizarre exchange, you close your door as quietly as you can and turn to face a very amused Kyungsoo, caustic quip tangible on the tip of his tongue. </p><p>“Don’t,” you warn him sternly before he can open his fat mouth. You can’t have him calling Jaehyun an asshole again, because every time you hear the phrase thrown his way, you feel compelled to defend him. You think you’ll continue to do so no matter how many additional pieces of evidence you gather that points to that word being true in regards to him. It's frustrating. It's really fucking frustrating.</p><p>He feigns complete innocence, “I didn’t say anything!”</p><p>“Get in your room, and keep it that way,” you order him, but you’re not mad at him, not really. He’s right, it’s nice to know that someone else will be sleeping in your house <em>(not with you)</em>. Sleeping down here on the couch, like you have been ever since, does not allow the neighboring porch light to shine through any of your downstairs windows the way it does when you're in your bedroom. Having Kyungsoo here is an adequate replacement for that feeling of comfort.</p><p>“Yes, your highness,” Kyungsoo takes your hand and sarcastically bows low over it before he heads into his room for the night. "The royal court will surely be abuzz tomorrow!"</p><p>You've just had this exact thought, that people will definitely find out that Mark's Pandora acquaintance has stayed behind to sleep in your house. By tomorrow, you wouldn't be shocked to see the entire city blazing in a wildfire of new gossip. But as you sink down onto your couch, you’re not thinking about the optics of getting caught with Kyungsoo. You’re thinking about what had happened the last time you’d allowed a man into your home like this. But Kyungsoo is not him, and this situation is not that one. It shouldn’t matter this time. Right?</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the next chapter is the end of the first section of this fic! there are three sections total! thank u as always for reading! i reply to all comments so come say hi! i've used a lot of exclamation points! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. dahlia pinnata</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>But you’re past the point of meaningless apologies, for licking her boots or his, just to experience the prick of delight in your heart that you get when he turns a pretty look your way.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>suh-prise bitches! bet you weren't expecting TWO chapters in one week. stay tuned to the notes at the end for the reason why ;) enjoy the final chapter of part 1!</p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i may update this as i keep going as contexts change but i hope this helps the visualization!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You’re halfway through the very mediocre To All the Boys sequel on Netflix when there’s a familiar quadruplet knock on your door.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, did you want to go for a wa—,” Yuta’s cheery voice comes through your home as he peeks his head inside, and though he must be surprised to see your companion, he doesn’t show it. “Oh, hello, Kyungsoo.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo waves his fingers, entranced by the movie despite its flaws. “Hey man.”</p><p class="p1">“I thought you might want to go for a walk downtown, but maybe we can all go,” Yuta revises, making an effort to include the other man after you’d told him the truth of your relationship. “There’s supposed to be a particularly nice full moon out tonight.”</p><p class="p1">You figure that it would be nice to get out of the house, after spending the past several days doing nothing but watching movies and eating shitty takeout. When you glance out the window, the sky is still dashed with the subdued oranges and pinks of a fading sunset. The loveliest sunsets often give way to the most exquisite night skies.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo seems to think so too, because he takes that moment to lean over and seductively whisper, “I’ve always been a fan of moonlight strolls.”</p><p class="p1">“You are so annoying,” you gripe. But as Yuta conceals a laugh at your snarkiness you put on your light rain jacket.</p><p class="p1">The three of you go strolling out of your house, chattering about how Lara Jean should’ve picked John Ambrose. Laughing idly about nonsense as Yuta locks up for the night, you hear the click of a door that is certainly not yours. You turn to gaze across the plaza and you’re rather rudely met by Jaehyun’s irritated stare, honed right in your direction. Specifically to the proximity you share with the man next to you.</p><p class="p1">Yuta, too naive for your own good, waves to his longtime friend, “Oh, Jaehyun! What’s up man!”</p><p class="p1">“Just headed downtown to meet John and some people. You?”</p><p class="p1">You shoot Yuta a dozen subliminal messages, to lie out his ass and somehow prevent Jaehyun from linking up with you. But Yuta doesn’t pick up on your silent signals, instead gesturing him over and exclaiming, “Us, too! Let’s go together.”</p><p class="p1">As Jaehyun and his accompanying Neozone escorts meet up with your group, Kyungsoo’s elbow surreptitiously goes into your side.A wave of nervous energy starts to force you below its surface and you proceed to drown in the horrifically awful bitterness the moment Yuta innocently asks, “How is the ceremony planning going?”</p><p class="p1">How your feet continue to walk you don’t know, because your brain has absolutely short circuited itself into oblivion. There’s no reason to know the intimate details of the way they’re preparing for their blossom ceremony, <em>the best and most romantic thing this city’s ever created</em>. Honestly, it’s going to be the pinnacle of romance, meticulously planned out, every gorgeous strand of roses that’s going to be draped over the venue, every scrap of satin or silk that’s going to be sewn up into her stunning dress, the beautiful suit he’ll wear. You can already picture it, the way they’ll stare at each other when they’re sat at the head of the table, gazes loaded with the unadulterated true love that their flowers will match.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun blithers away like an unobserving, simpering idiot, “It’s great! Our moms are absolutely going nuts ordering flowers from the Ministry of Cultivation and Mi’s getting Jennie Kim to custom make her dress, which is going to be amazing considering she’s the best designer in Pandora, maybe the whole nation—,”</p><p class="p1">Your fingers twist into the curve of your palm. He’d told you once that he wouldn’t care about these things until the girl he’s with asked him to, and well, here is your proof.</p><p class="p1">“Dude,” Yuta grunts, “are you allowed to be saying that?”</p><p class="p1">“What?” Jaehyun asks, confused by Yuta’s annoyance.</p><p class="p1">Your bodyguard dips his head in your direction and mutters, “A little loyalty?”</p><p class="p1">There’s no loyalty needed, not when you’d sent Mimi a check for the cost of what it’d take to make a gown to her standards, too plagued by guilt to not follow through with your promise. Money is nothing to you anymore. But you’d wanted Jaehyun to stay loyal out of his own volition, more greedy than you’d ever dared to be in your life. This somehow feels like the worst thing he’s done to you yet, his subtle rejection of the craft that makes you who you are. He used to be the person who was first in line for your creations, and now, that’s no longer a line he’s willing to stand in. </p><p class="p1">“Anyways,” you loudly and very pointedly change the subject, “I can’t believe Mark is already gone. It’s only been a few days but it feels weird.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun speaks to you for the first time, in a very blasé manner, “Thought you couldn’t wait for him to get out of here, considering how much he bothers you.”</p><p class="p1">That is what finally causes your feet to stop, only yards away from the first block of businesses at the bottom of the hill. “Why?!” you hiss, filled with fresh rage, because there was no reason for him to reveal that without your permission. You’d told him that out of desperation only, desperation to get him to understand why you’d written that letter. Another mistake. And all of this means he remembers you telling him.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, what?” Yuta chokes in surprise, and though Kyungsoo knows that you and Mark had spent a less than amicable time apart, his expression tells you he certainly hadn’t known it’d been to this extent.</p><p class="p1">You shoot Jaehyun a savage glare and he whines, “I thought they knew!” He claims no responsibility for his words, about par for the course for him as of late.</p><p class="p1">You set off walking again, knowing if you stand there and tell the story you will surely dissolve into tears. At least if you’re moving, the billowing breeze can sweep those droplets away. “I came out intending to have a nice night tonight, which I do not want to ruin, so I will say the minimum. The day he moved to Pandora, Mark came to see me. We got into a huge altercation, in which he blamed me for letting his brother die because I did not believe that the perpetrators might be from Elyxion. He told me the truth of his mother, which all of you know, but I did not, called me a <em>fucking bitch</em> and left. We did not speak for the entire time he was gone.”</p><p class="p1">It hadn’t been a petty fight, or an extreme exaggeration of a misunderstanding. That had been true turmoil, your and Mark’s relationship pushed onto the precipice of blasting into obscurity. While things seem to be mended now, back then you were sure you were never coming back from that, cursed with the fear that you would have to carry on existing on without your best friend. But despite that, you’d dug deep in to ask him to come home for Jaehyun’s birthday, had put yourself through the reanimation of those fears in an effort to bring that boy the happiness you thought he deserved.</p><p class="p1">The boy whose eyes hold the remorse he feels for being so cavalier about the topic, whose mouth is held agape currently, “I didn’t know it was that bad.” Of course Jaehyun didn’t know, when had he ever asked you  to clarify what you’d meant? He’d only taken that time after your confession to selfishly make you believe that he cared.</p><p class="p1">“That was on purpose,” you state pointedly. “But I do not hate Mark. I love him quite plainly, and this trip just reaffirmed that.”</p><p class="p1">The remorse in Jaehyun’s eyes is gone at your profession, replaced with something you can’t pinpoint, and he only mutters, “I, uh, sorry. I’m going to Cherry’s. See you later.”</p><p class="p1">He rubs at the back of his neck in anxiety as he stalks off towards the entrance of the bar and escapes inside. You want to blow out a breath of relief, but you need at least a decade’s worth of time for the anxiety to alleviate each time your paths cross now. You don’t think you can ever be by him and feel comfortable again.</p><p class="p1">“You guys want to go in too?” Yuta offers, “Grab some beers to release the tension? I'm sorry to hear about what happened with M, but seems like you're good now?”</p><p class="p1">“We're good, Yu, but we don't have to go—,”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo pushes past you lightly to throw an arm around Yuta, exercising their burgeoning friendship to bend your will, “Why not, it’s warm enough outside for a cold beer.”</p><p class="p1">You follow them inside the establishment, and immediately wish you hadn’t caved to Kyungsoo’s suggestion, because that means you have to watch Jaehyun go up and kiss Mimi right in front of you. “Hi,” he greets her, with such an awfully cute smile. “What was such a big deal you had to stay away all day?”</p><p class="p1">“Your birthday present, babe! It’s a little belated, but it’s finally here.”</p><p class="p1">Mimi steps aside from her planned positioning, and you and Yuta instinctively jolt to grasp at each other when you see just what, no, <em>who</em> Mimi’s gift for Jaehyun is. Yuta has one hand gripping the life out of your bicep, and the other comes to slap your chest in disbelief as he points and crows, “Is that Taeil fucking Moon?”</p><p class="p1">The light in the dingy bar is not doing much for you when paired with the darkness outside, but luckily Taeil has dyed his hair the same obnoxiously bright hue of red ever since he was his rookie, to match the Bats’ official colors. There that flame of hair is, on the head of the man currently shaking hands with a star-struck Jaehyun.</p><p class="p1">There’s already a gaggle of people you know hanging around the bar to watch this all go down. You catch Kyungsoo by the arm before he tries to turn around and walk out of the crowd, and deflect his attempt to leave, “We have to get in line, okay, I don’t care how much you want to go stare at the actual moon, I need to get this Moon’s autograph.”</p><p class="p1">“Shouldn’t you have special privileges or something?” he mutters as he allows you to drag him through the burgeoning crowd, eyeing the way Yuta cuts everyone off as he goes up to join his friends in direct conversation with the baseball player. You don't want to go over there, for specific reasons.</p><p class="p1">“Hurry up and start elbowing!” you order him.</p><p class="p1">After a good deal of aggressive elbowing performed by Kyungsoo, you find a spot close to the end of the line that’s assembled to greet the athlete. You stand there to wait, watching as Taeil makes his way down to say to hello to every single person who's gathered. Your anxiety had already been through the roof during your walk here, but it’s skyrocketing into infinity now. You don’t talk to your companion, sing along to the music or sway your hips to the beat, all you can do is nervously gulp your beer and fold the bar napkin in your shaky hands. You already know what you’re going to do with his autograph, you’ll frame it and put it on the windowsill right next to Jeno’s portrait in his uniform.</p><p class="p1">“And who am I making this out to?”</p><p class="p1">So much for the preparation, you nearly drop your napkin and your beer all over your sneakers when the rich voice curls its way into your ears. You’re too shy to even look at Taeil, so you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and offer up the piece of paper with a soft, “Y/n.”</p><p class="p1">He scrawls out a generic message of support, and when you finally gather the courage to look Taeil Moon in the eyes and thank him for everything he’s meant to you, he’s the one who stutters first, “W-wait, I… I know you.”</p><p class="p1">You look to your right and left, seeing Kyungsoo and empty space on either side of you. You point a finger into your chest, eyes blowing wide, and whisper, “Me? You do?”</p><p class="p1">“Come over here, I’m going to buy you a drink.”</p><p class="p1">Before you realize it, you’re being led to the bar, hand in hand with the most famous baseball player from your region. How the hell is it possible that Taeil Moon knows you? You’ve been to many a Bats game over the years, but Michael never exercised his privilege to get you on any sort of personal level with the team. You were always fans in the stadium, nothing more. Kyungsoo is following right behind you, but he doesn’t do anything but bring his mouth to your ear and whisper, “I’m going to give you a second,” before he disappears out of your orbit. You can’t force him to stand there and buffer your conversation with the celebrity athlete.</p><p class="p1">Taeil flags down the bartender, a hugely buff man who nearly passes out when he sees who he’s going to be serving. “Hi, can I get a bottle of Dom and three glasses?”</p><p class="p1">Wait, did he just offer to buy you a bottle of Dom Perignon? You hold out your hand to stop him, “I’m sorry, that’s way too much.”</p><p class="p1">He deftly avoids your hand trying to block his card, and fills the space between your fingers with a bubbling glass of champagne only seconds later. You take a swallow of the alcohol, hoping it’ll quell your nerves more than the beer, and it does no such thing as you watch Taeil lean back onto the wood of the bar.</p><p class="p1">“How do I put this respectfully?” For the commanding aura he holds, Taeil’s voice is crackly and melodic, “That boy… you were there with him.”</p><p class="p1">You heart regurgitates itself into your throat. “Yes.” Here it comes, the prying questions, the false interest, all of it ultimately culminating in the appalled look he’ll shoot your way when he realizes that you have blood on your hands.</p><p class="p1">What you get is a warm hand on your shoulder, and a sweet, “I’ve been wanting to meet you. I want to know all about you, about him. His name was Jeno, right?”</p><p class="p1">How could you have thought that Jeno would pick an idol that would ever dare to disrespect him?</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” you breathe out, already overcome by Taeil’s kindness. Jeno’s life is one that can only be discussed in the timespan of years, enough time to truly appreciate every detail about him, but you tell Taeil what is important to know, “Nono was so talented for fifteen, already a good hitter but disciplined in his defense. He was preparing to commit to pitching, he was hitting seventy five on the radar gun that month, primed to be the head of the rotation at his school as a sophomore.”</p><p class="p1">“That sounds incredible. But I don’t care only about baseball, what was he <em>like</em>?” Taeil is asking about the hands of the clock in Jeno’s heart, what made them tick, what was the driving force behind each second he’d spent on this earth. And while you couldn’t know all of it, you know enough.</p><p class="p1">“He was a kid. There’s not much more to it, he was a good kid,” you start, because fifteen is still a child, he was a baby. It really should be Mark telling this story, honoring his kid brother’s legacy. You hope that the words pitched right from your heart are tribute enough. Maybe you’ll call Mark for the first time tonight, and tell him all of this. </p><p class="p1">“Everyone always speaks in platitudes about him now, I’m certainly culpable in it too. He was perfect, he was the ideal son, had a heart of pure gold, whatever. It’s all true.” You saw everything else, the rule breaking, the puffed chests, the illicit betting, the dark pallors of stress. “But he was just a kid. He was mischievous and pushed peoples’ buttons, intelligent, unusually and justifiably cocky. He was confused about a lot of things, was still learning about others. J was just a kid who loved his family and baseball. That was it.”</p><p class="p1">Taeil rubs at the corner of his eye, then sniffles and lets out a small, affected laugh, “I think my wife and I cried for a week when the Vice Premier mentioned me at his funeral. I still remember him every time I pitch.”</p><p class="p1">How could anyone forget the image of Michael at the podium in the capital’s church, the sound of his voice as he tried to speak three times and had the sentences disappear into grief each time. Only to force them out in the defeated whisper of his fourth try, <em>I was supposed to watch Taeil Moon pass the torch off to my son, but now I have to bury him instead. </em>You’d sobbed so violently at his words when you’d watched the broadcast later, that Jaehyun’d had to turn the replay off before you got sick.</p><p class="p1">“You brought him a lot of comfort, when we were there,” you whisper, fingers tightening around the stem of your glass so you won’t show off your tic. “So, thank you.”</p><p class="p1">“And you? What about you?”</p><p class="p1">“What about me?”</p><p class="p1">“It takes a very special person to do the kind of thing you did. What kind of person is that?” Taeil murmurs, his simple question doing quite a number on you.</p><p class="p1">Partially because you have no proper response, and partially because of the revelation that he does not view you as a villain. That is so baffling you have to spend a few minutes remembering the plain facts about yourself to parrot back to him,</p><p class="p1">“I’m sure you saw on the news, I was his family’s seamstress. J used to wear these socks when he’d start. Knee high, covered in this cartoon character, Conan, that I made for his twelfth birthday. I live on this hill covered with white flowers. I’m not from here, but came here as a teen, I have four best friends I grew up with. I’m not sure what else to tell you about me. I’m unspectacular otherwise.” You’re not some icon, some larger than life figure that holds the whims of life and death in your palm, you’re only one girl.</p><p class="p1">His mouth twitches, like he wants to protest against your bland description of yourself, but he pivots back into care, “And <em>how</em> are you?”</p><p class="p1">The appropriate thing to do, now that you’re here with a stranger you don’t know, is to speak in platitudes, but what comes out is, “I feel pretty lost more than a lot of the time. But I’m okay.”</p><p class="p1">His nose crinkles in agreement, and his arm goes all the way around your shoulders again, cuddling you into his side for a moment. You used to find it unfair that Taeil was able to continue on in his life, playing baseball without a care that his biggest fan had gone, but that had been such a careless thought. Jeno had picked his idol well.</p><p class="p1">“Tae, Tae! Over here for a picture, please!”</p><p class="p1">Even the way Taeil groans when he hears Mimi’s call is reminiscent of Jeno’s disdain for the girl. “Which one is the birthday boy again?”</p><p class="p1">“Honey brown curly hair, dimples,” You don’t have to look out in the crowd to give him the answer he needs, there’s only one man here in possession of these traits. Taeil turns to go, and you catch his hand with yours, holding him there for a second, “Mr. Moon,” and when he turns, a <em>don’t call me Mr. Moon, I’m still young!</em> look on his face, you softly request, “Please write him something extra nice when you sign for him. He is a big fan.”</p><p class="p1">You’re more than a little bit disgusted at your blatant, hypocritical, lingering affection for said birthday boy, but you can’t help it.</p><p class="p1">Taeil grins, then holds your hands out in front of you as he entreats,“Two things before I go: one, leave your info with my manager, so you can come to a game on me. We’ll fly that number thirteen proud over the stadium when you do. And two, make sure your boyfriend gets his champagne, okay?”</p><p class="p1">He tilts his head over to where Kyungsoo is chatting with Doyoung, but you’re so swept up in the interaction you’ve had, you can’t even protest. “Okay.”</p><p class="p1">“Thanks, sweetheart.” Taeil’s finger dashes against your cheek in a note of fondness, and then he strides away to resume his dutiful celebrity appearance.</p><p class="p1">What an icon.</p><p class="p1">“Did we have that serious talk because you wanted to go date Mark’s Pandora friend?” Johnny drawls teasingly as he appears at the bar beside you, Yuta in tow, both of them clearly having eavesdropped through your entire conversation with the baseball player.</p><p class="p1">“We’re not dating!”</p><p class="p1">“Then why’d Taeil Moon, let me repeat, <em>Taeil Moon</em>, think you were dating?”</p><p class="p1">There’s no malice in John’s voice, only genuine entertained interest, and you know for a fact his heart is big enough to set aside his abiding feelings in deference to you. But you’re not dating Kyungsoo, not at all. You roll your eyes and scoff, “Because we were standing in line together and Taeil Moon, for all his gifted athletic ability, is still a dumb ass dude like you.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta snickers as Johnny blusters at being called out, “I’m not mad, I’m asking out of genuine curiosity. We haven’t spoken much but he’s really intimidating, like,” Johnny continues chuckling with nerves before he glances at Kyungsoo and finally finishes, “He’s kind of out of our league, anyways. Makes sense you’d end up with someone like that because you were always out of ours.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is out of their league, but for only for the reason that you feel connected to him out of circumstantial understanding. You’d told Yuta the truth once and he’d respected you enough to never bring it up again, so it’s high time that Johnny knows, too.</p><p class="p1">But Jaehyun’s tipsy voice rams its way into the conversation, barricading your truth from making its way out, “He’s staying with her, did you know that?”</p><p class="p1">You thought Jaehyun was safely tucked away in a conversation with the baseball star, that you could have a moment of peace to explain to your friend that you spend time with Kyungsoo because you’d both saved each other in the Pandora Building. But you can already imagine what’s unfolded, Taeil had mentioned off hand that he’d spoken to you and your boyfriend, and the chaos that had ensued.</p><p class="p1">“What the hell!” you hiss, taken aback by the second instance tonight of him revealing something personal about you.</p><p class="p1">“Isn’t that like beyond inappropriate? He was shirtless in her house!” Jaehyun exclaims in a holier-than-thou manner when neither of his friends react to the information he’s dropped. Yuta already saw Kyungsoo at your house, but Johnny doesn’t even seem to care.</p><p class="p1">“Um, not really,” Johnny answers his friend’s question after some further consideration. “We’ve slept shirtless at y/n’s house too many times to count. And he doesn’t have a place here.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s brow furrows as he observes Jaehyun, asking, “Are you drunk already dude?”</p><p class="p1">The almost empty glass of beer in Jaehyun’s hand should be his answer, the answer you all need to let this conversation go, especially considering his low tolerance level. But in this secondary instance of being filled with such unfathomable rage, you have something you need to say, which is snarled out from your bared teeth turned up in a sneer, “I think he’s just jealous I can have fun while he’s stuck with that kiss ass.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t have to otherwise explain, the kiss ass in this instance is Mimi. At the surprise vitriol, Jaehyun coughs over his sip of beer, “W-what?”</p><p class="p1">“Holy shit, we’re going there tonight,” Yuta chuckles under his breath as Johnny blows out a low whistle before fist pumping and chirping, “Smackdown season.”</p><p class="p1">As Jaehyun stares at you, daring you to repeat yourself, you recognize your rage is not undiluted, it’s intertwined with the same crippling bouts of nauseating jealousy that had been cropping up since the party. It’s absolutely unfair that Mimi was able to do this, was able to flex her connections and bring Taeil here for Jaehyun, was able to bring him joy in this way. Why couldn’t you have thought of that? It would’ve been easy to hide under the guise of honoring Jeno, instead of the plain announcement your needlepoint gift had been. It’s unfair that you’d been crushed under the weight of his careless words and actions ever since that night, yet you’d still begged Taeil to write him a nice note, anyways.</p><p class="p1">“Like seriously, bringing Taeil Moon here? Is that not the most kiss ass kiss assery thing you’ve ever seen?” you slur with complete derision, knowing that if you had not chugged all that champagne with the star athlete, there’d be no way you’d ever say this, too ashamed of your hypocritical feelings. “Like, you’re already marrying her, she doesn’t have to stick her head any further up your ass.”</p><p class="p1">Johnny bursts out laughing at your crude metaphor and Yuta covers his mouth to hide his burgeoning chuckle. The standoff between you and Jaehyun right now is coiled through so tightly with pressure, his grinding jaw and corded neck give away his displeasure, though not as much as the curl of his lip into a sneer that goes toe to toe with yours. But he hasn’t immediately denied what you said. He knows it’s true.</p><p class="p1">There’s the sound of a muffled sniff, and you look to see Mimi there, guard by her side, clearly having heard the last part of your rude statement.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun snaps out of his mood when she presses herself into his side, expecting a reaction of comfort from him. He hovers awkwardly for a moment before his arm goes around her shoulder, and the other two men look to you for direction, to see how you’ll react and follow. But you’re past the point of meaningless apologies, for licking her boots or his, just to experience the prick of delight in your heart that you get when he turns a pretty look your way.</p><p class="p1">You bow your head in sarcasm and the words that come out superficial and caustic reveal your lack of remorse, “My bad.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a fight brewing, you can feel it, Mimi’s hovering by him like your attack hadn’t been only verbal, and now John and Yuta are loitering by you in eternal backup. You’d always wondered if the friend group were ever to be divided, what sides everyone would fall on, and this is apparently it. You versus him.</p><p class="p1">But the escalation is prevented by the press of a kiss onto the morsel of skin right by your mouth, and a soft, “Come on, my drunk blueberry girl. Let’s go home.”</p><p class="p1">It’s Kyungsoo, taking you by the hand to bring you through the crowd to the door, once again your guardian angel watching over you. You hazard a glance back to the bar, through the gap in the guards trailing behind you. All four of their faces are completely blanched, gawking straight at the two of you leaving together, still overcome from Kyungsoo’s over-the-top display of affection.</p><p class="p1">The vision is so hilarious you start laughing the moment you step out of the bar, holding your stomach as you struggle to stay upright, “You really freaked them out,” you keep cackling, and nearly take him down to the ground with you as you careen off the sidewalk. You catch yourself, then laugh again, “Ah, fuck, sorry. I had so much champagne. Taeil made me so nervous.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo keeps a firm grip on your hand as he begins to drag you along the path that leads up to your home, forgoing calling Winwin in lieu of a walk in the night that will sober you up. He agrees, “I always thought he was so homely on TV but he was super intimidating in person! That good looking and talented, yikes!”</p><p class="p1">You’re halfway up the hill when you realize that he hadn’t spoken a single word to the baseball player, and though you know he primarily roots for the Pandora Chinchillas, and keeps that fact to himself under fear of ridicule, it’s still weird. You ask, “Why didn’t you talk to him?”</p><p class="p1">“He was your kid brother’s idol. You deserved to have that conversation alone.” Kyungsoo squeezes your hand, and it’s like he’s squeezing a burst of warmth into your chest.</p><p class="p1">“He invited me to come to a game. I think I should bring Mark with me,” you muse out loud, thinking of how fun it’d be to sit right behind home plate this time, using Taeil’s invitation to splurge on the best seats in the stadium.</p><p class="p1">“Mark, who you hate or maybe don’t. Who you fought with or maybe didn't.”</p><p class="p1">You groan out loud at his facetious quip, eliciting a smile from the night guard that’s posted outside of the door of your home. You let out another groan as you make your way inside, “My god, what a beaten horse. It’s either what I’m doing with Mark or <em>who</em> I’m doing.”</p><p class="p1">You drop your bag errantly on the floor to catch the beer Kyungsoo tosses you from your fridge, and make a beeline straight for the couch, dropping down onto the cushion in front of the dark windows. Frankly, you’re surprised that Taeil had only made one offhand comment about your relationship status and didn’t ask about who the boy from home had been. You’d assumed no one was immune to asking about it at least once.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo steps over you to perch onto the back of the couch above you and look out over the river. He takes a sip from his beer and his next sentences come out out half joking, half filled with derision, “I’m going to be honest, the constant speculation on your personal life has gotten really, really fucking annoying. Like, we can’t have a conversation with anyone without ending up deeply dissecting the nuance of who you choose to spend your time with.”</p><p class="p1">If he’s tired of it, imagine how tired you are.</p><p class="p1">You lift your beer in a very caustic cheers and clang it against his before jeering, “Welcome to the shitshow of my life! Apparently everyone thinks the latest lead actor is you!”</p><p class="p1">“I have no idea why, to be honest.”</p><p class="p1">“Because you made a big show of cutting the line!” you exclaim in exasperation at his lack of awareness. “Whether you intended to or not!”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo doesn’t seem fazed by your accusation, he only flashes you a very self-satisfied smirk and proclaims, “If all the women in the world were lined up before me, you’d be my second in line.”</p><p class="p1">“Wow, I’m flattered,” you deadpan as you flash him your middle finger. But despite the boorish gesture, it’s actually quite a sweet sentiment. The girl he’d loved before was, perhaps still is, first in line, and somehow you’re next.</p><p class="p1">“And me?” he turns the line of questioning back around, forcing you to contemplate something you hadn’t ever before.</p><p class="p1">What about Kyungsoo? You’ve seen him so long within the bounds of the man you knew while you were in the Pandora Building, or within the spell of another’s hold over you. His appreciation of you runs deeper than processing your shared traumas, it’s what the foundation of a relationship can be built on, mutual and respecting. Your personalities mesh, it has always seemed like you were formed out of the same story, and Mark likes him, which is only the cherry on top.</p><p class="p1">“Well,” you hum, lost in thought. “You definitely wouldn’t be last.”</p><p class="p1">When you look back up at him, finally freed from previous bias, you’re cast right into the churning waters of an ocean of tension that’s been conjured up. Kyungsoo has never stared at you in this way, actually no, that’s wrong. He’s stared at you this way once, the moment you’d emerged from the bathroom in that gold dress, this way that highlights the depths of his sparkling black eyes, holding you captive within his gaze. He really does look so handsome right now, with his gorgeous cascade of long black hair, and his plump, pink lips.</p><p class="p1">Before you can stop it, your mouth is moving in a siren’s call of unpredicted seduction, “Shouldn’t we just give the good people what they want?”</p><p class="p1">Thinly veiled, loaded with innuendo, your implication is not lost on Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo, whose eyes go an even darker shade of onyx at your words, whose voice descends into the crippling depths of irresistible accord, “We should.”</p><p class="p1">He’s sitting above you in a position of ultimate power, it should be no hassle for him to push you back onto your couch, to have his way with you. But he is painfully deliberate with his movements, first putting his beer down on the windowsill, then pressing his cooled hand into the heat of your arm. How have you never noticed how intoxicating the spicy Gucci cologne he wears is? You’re practically drowning in the enticing essence of him as he inches his face closer to yours, so, so close, close enough that your breaths are cycling in the same proximity.</p><p class="p1">But he never dares to sweep his lips against yours, because he pulls back with a determined, “Wait, never mind.”</p><p class="p1">“Are you kidding me?” you growl, perhaps more forcefully than you intended, perhaps more affected by him than you’d thought.</p><p class="p1">As if egged on by your words, he again brings his face right up to yours, the luring crest of his lip pricking against yours when he whispers, “I am not going to be inappropriate with you when we are both drunk. I’d much prefer to remember that when it happens.”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes flutter closed, heady rush of emotion forcing its way into you. “When?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, when,” he states, with full and utter confidence that this is an anticipated event of the future, you and him. He swerves his mouth out of the way and once more presses it to your cheek before murmuring, “Goodnight.”</p><p class="p1">Then, he picks up his jacket, and disappears into the guest room for the rest of the night, leaving you a total, flushed mess on the couch.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The muted ringing of your phone in your bag by the doorway is enough of a harrowing call to the past that you jolt awake as soon as you hear it. You nearly trip over the blankets tangled in your legs in your haste to answer, “Hello?”</p><p class="p1">“Sorry for leaving without a word, but you were dead asleep. I’m grabbing lunch with a friend who’s in town,” Kyungsoo’s smooth voice through the speaker sets off a furious blush across your cheeks, an unusual reaction that is only brought about by your remembrance of your almost liaison last night.</p><p class="p1">You test the waters, to see if the vibes that had been lurching in the space between you two hadn’t been false, “Don’t run off with her, now.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s a him, but okay. If you say so.” His compliance is brimming with unabashed flirtation, and he matches it with his request, “Let’s go to dinner.”</p><p class="p1">He is so clearly asking you out on a date that you feel compelled to protest, or at least tamp down the instinct in your body telling you to agree on the spot, “Are you serious? Can’t we order food and watch a shitty movie like we’ve been doing?”</p><p class="p1">He ignores you in favor of one line of instruction, “That floaty restaurant down by the river at six.”</p><p class="p1">“That floaty restaurant….?” you wonder out loud, trying to think of what place he’s talking about, before a hand flies to cover your mouth. “Kyungsoo, do you mean Sun &amp; Moon? That’s Neozone’s only Michelin star restaurant.”</p><p class="p1">“Exactly, see you then!” he chirps, without a care, then hangs up the call.</p><p class="p1">Set upon stilts in the laziest bend of the majestic river, Sun &amp; Moon was the dreamiest slice of dining available in the entire region. You’d long wanted to experience the finery, to dine under the garlands of fresh pink and purple dahlias draped through their strings of fairy lights, but hadn’t been able to yet. And now you’re going to go with Kyungsoo. It should be a nice thing to look forward to, the idea of dressing up and going out for a wonderful meal, it should make the time fly by with abandon. Instead, the day goes by in a complete and utter slog of minutes, the hands of your clock moving criminally slow through the marked out numbers.</p><p class="p1">The implication of what’s to come hangs heavy over your head in a fog of preemptive carnal tension, to the point where you feel lightheaded multiple times throughout the hours that pass. When you go out to pluck out some fresh stellaria to put in the vase by your sink, you have to lie back on the grass and recover from the thought that pings into your mind. You know exactly what’s going to happen when you return home after your date, it’s no use denying it.</p><p class="p1">It’s going to happen, and for that you have to look your best.</p><p class="p1">You’ve never felt compelled to do this before, but you start getting ready hours before you’re set to leave. You’d brought most of your beauty products to the guest bathroom from upstairs in your haste to shut yourself out of that area. You busy yourself with doing your makeup, just a hint around the eyes, no blush necessary if he inspires that same reaction in you tonight that he had yesterday. Though you’re intending to pin it up in some elaborate updo, you still take the time to delicately curl your hair, sending it down your back in a waterfall of curls.</p><p class="p1">The task you’ve left to the very last possible second, five minutes before Winwin is due to pick you up, is to pick out what you’re wearing.</p><p class="p1">This is a task that far more laborious than doing your makeup or hair, because it requires going back into your room for the first time since it’s all happened. Okay, no need to be dramatic, y/n, go into the room, don’t even bother looking at the bed, head straight to the closet and pick out the first dress you see. Simple enough, you’ve been in your room enough times that you can navigate the space with your eyes closed, opening them only when you’re set in front of the closet door. But that spells disaster for you, because the first dress you see isn’t your no-nonsense navy sheath dress that you wear to formal occasions, your poofy prom dress, or even the gold masterpiece from the party. It’s that wispy slip of delicate peach you'd sewn. </p><p class="p1">Your first thought is that you know that garment can never see the light of day again, too much feeling would be drummed up by having that silk organza on your body again. But the next thought, and the one that wins the battle, is that it would be insulting for that dress to be hidden away forever.</p><p class="p1">You put it on once you’re back downstairs, the door of your room safely closed behind you, in matter-of-fact avoidance of any mirrors. Satisfied yet not, you take one more glance around the space for what you’re missing. You eye the bunch of newly plucked white flowers in their crystal vase, and you figure why not. You’re already wearing the dress you thought you never would, why not do this, too? </p><p class="p1">You almost think it’s a mistake, to have left the curls of your hair cascading down your neck like this, the sprig of stellaria pinned up behind your ear. Winwin is the first to make you feel that way, with how his foot accidentally steps on the gas and he almost runs over the rose bushes lining your driveway. The valet is the next to do so, snagging his uniform on the corner of your door after you’ve emerged from the backseat. By the time the maitre’d nearly drops your coat as he takes it from you, you don’t even marvel at the luminously luxurious interior of the restaurant, or indulge in the plush fragrance of the ceiling filled with dahlias. You're too consumed with the nervousness of anticipating Kyungsoo’s reaction.</p><p class="p1">You can’t even look at him when you’re brought to the table, only out at the gentle swell of the river, the punctuating drip drops of rain over the surface, as you greet him, “Hi.”</p><p class="p1">“Now I kind of understand why everyone speculates about your personal life.”</p><p class="p1">His unexpected greeting forces you to look at him, hit right in the face with the stately image of him in a pressed black suit, his hair neatly gelled back, leaving his staring eyes completely unframed. You carefully lower yourself into the booth across from him, and he asks, “Where’d you get that dress?”</p><p class="p1">One fluttery sleeve brushes against your arm as you shiver under the weight of his gaze, “I made it.”</p><p class="p1">“Might be the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in some time,” he compliments you easily. “That fabric? Wow.” That fabric, toted all the way back from Spain in the bottom of a certain person’s suitcase. A person who’d expressed the same sentiment once before, <em>I’m sure your dress is going to be beautiful.</em></p><p class="p1">You take a sip of the white wine that’s waiting for you, hoping the wretched memories will be washed away, and you move on by saying, “I think it’s long overdue that I make you something.”</p><p class="p1">“I thought little man said you didn’t take personal requests.”</p><p class="p1">“That rule has clearly been tossed into the shitter, dude.”</p><p class="p1">He’s seen Mimi’s dress, everyone’s seen Mimi’s dress, that shouldn’t have been a line you ever attempted to cross. Kyungsoo cradles his glass of bourbon in hand as he leans back in his seat, the gesture of pure manliness more affecting than anticipated, and he questions, “What would you make me, then?”</p><p class="p1">He dresses plainly, his wardrobe as no-nonsense and serious as he is, you can’t imagine sewing him a flashy pink headband with pineapples on it, or a silk shirt with a majestic lion spread across the front and back. No, for him, you’d go with a simple classic. “A shirt. Silly cartoon penguin on the pocket, cyclamen in its beak.”</p><p class="p1">The mention of his flower sets the tone for how the rest of the evening is going to proceed, heady and romantic. You couldn’t recall a single detail of what you eat, it’s decidedly delicious, but you’re too swept up in everything else, finally getting to soak in the rich aroma of the flowers draped from the ceiling, Kyungsoo in his suit, the way his hand dares to brush by yours on the table. There’s even a man crooning in the corner with a guitarist accompanying him. Sun &amp; Moon should’ve gotten a Michelin star for its atmosphere alone, how could anyone come to this place and not fall desperately for the person they’re here with?</p><p class="p1">“I think we were destined to be together,” he proclaims out of the blue, in a dramatic voice like he’s some kind of oracle. You can’t help but laugh.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, now you’re crossing into clown territory.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo chuckles for a few seconds more, then he leans his chin into his propped up hand to murmur, “Neozone orphan meets Neozone orphan out of happenstance? How is that not destiny?”</p><p class="p1">The bread you’re holding nearly takes a tumble from your hand as you repeat, dumbfounded, “Neozone orphan?”</p><p class="p1">“You haven’t seen your parents in however many years, and I haven’t seen mine in almost fourteen,” he reveals, tinily sad smile crossing his face.</p><p class="p1">“You’ve never told me that," you gasp, running such a parallel line of existence to him you're definitely leaning towards a belief in destiny.</p><p class="p1">“You’ve never told me that, either.”</p><p class="p1">“But you knew,” you protest. “I never knew.”</p><p class="p1">He’d basically deciphered it the first time Jeno detailed how you’d been brought into his family, Kyungsoo knows the exact amount of time it’s been. Plus, there’s no way he could’ve been around Mark for that long and not heard at least once, that you’d spent this long without coming into contact with the people who’d raised you. But with him, he’s never given you a clue, an essence, whiff, anything, that would lead you to his parallel path.</p><p class="p1">He shrugs, taking his turn to look out the window in avoidance of speaking directly to you, “You never knew because there wasn’t much to know. I grew up on the outskirts of the city, just my mom and me, never knew my father. Went to our illustrious private school because of a scholarship, I graduated, went off to XK, and then she was gone.”</p><p class="p1">“Familiar. And you haven’t heard from her since?”</p><p class="p1">“I haven’t heard from her since,” he confirms.</p><p class="p1">“I really am a magnet for the downtrodden,” you mutter, darkly sarcastic, and that paints a bitter grin upon his lips. You sigh, “It was the same for me, grew up in the middle of nowhere, came home to an empty house one day, save for a train ticket, which sent me right into Mark’s hands.” Yet another forceful exhale comes out, “Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like I lived that life.” They feel like fraudulent memories, the ones of you walking into Tactix’s town square or poring over textbooks with your father. Watering the bluebells and zinnias by your garden, sitting at the fireplace with your mother, sewing up a white and navy quilt.</p><p class="p1">“Me too," Kyungsoo agrees, sad yet accepting, "the before doesn’t even register much with me anymore.”</p><p class="p1">You are paired up by shared tragedy, but as it was for you, he must have happy memories of that time preceding it all. A time marked by the presence of a person. Though you don’t know the terms of their breakup, she must’ve been magnificent enough for him to want to marry her. </p><p class="p1">“What about that someone…” you start, careful with how you’re going about this. “Can you tell me about her?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s gaze finally returns to you, dripping with nostalgia and longing, an expression you’ve worn many a time before. “It’s hard to without being exceedingly cliche, because it never quite felt like she was real. I met her the first day of a political science conference XK and XM were joint hosting, and it was like I hadn’t known what existing was until then.”</p><p class="p1">He flips the fork over in his hand, down and up and down again, wistful words pirouetting out of him, “The best thing about her was how smart she was, she was a history professor before she turned thirty, only her diplomas hung over our dining room table because I’d insisted. She was all that plus a laundry list of other adjectives, beautiful, witty, the most innate kind heart, the most selfless nature.”</p><p class="p1">See? She sounds amazing.</p><p class="p1">You don’t want to ruin the moment, but you don’t have anything profound enough to follow his monologue up with. So you joke as you’re programmed to do, “Wow, it’s like you’re describing me or something!”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, in your dreams!” he scoffs, though it’s clear he appreciates your attempt at alleviating his sadness. Then, he softly asks you the same, “How about the boy from home?” The difference between you and Kyungsoo is that his someone had loved him back enough to the point where he could only wax poetic about her. You, your someone, he gives you no room to safely do so.</p><p class="p1">“He is, I don’t know. It’s hard to compare with what you just said,” you murmur, curling the napkin in between your hands, as you fight to keep the ironic gush from coming out. “He’s the kind of boy who’d keep a photo of you in his wallet just because.” The kind of boy to bring back a roll of peach fabric home from overseas because he’d thought you’d like it. The kind of boy to gaze up at you and whisper something beautiful, <em>How am I so lucky that you like me like this?</em></p><p class="p1">“You know you’re talking about me, right?” Kyungsoo reinvents what you’d teased him with into a completely flirtatious statement.</p><p class="p1">“Like you’d ever keep a picture of me in your wallet,” you scoff.</p><p class="p1">“No, but maybe on my phone.”</p><p class="p1">He has his hand in his breast pocket as soon as he’s said it, primed to prove you wrong. But he’s stopped by the arrival of the waiter dropping off your bill, and goes for his wallet instead. Kyungsoo starts to pull out his credit card, then calls you out on not doing the same, “Where’s your card? It’s not like this is a date or something!”</p><p class="p1">You wrinkle your nose at being exposed. You’re not the kind of person to ever let the man pay, you’d just been too slow to react to what was happening. He laughs a little at your reaction, then taps your hand after he’s put his card down, “I’m kidding. I’ll pay, you tip. But I’ll be right back.”</p><p class="p1">He keeps laughing while he stands and disappears off to use the restroom or something. You grumble and pull out your wallet to start counting out bills to leave for the waiter, leaving three times more than you should just to prove a point. The next time you’ll pay, there’s no reason for you not to. You finish separating out the money, the waiter returns with the processed bill, and Kyungsoo’s still not returned from wherever he went. You drain your glass of wine and take an afflicted gaze back into the spring rainfall that’s tumbling from the sky.</p><p class="p1">Then you hear it, hear a beautiful voice replacing the crooning that had been coming from the corner all night, <em>O</em><em>n that rainy night, we were in love. Even until the end, you worried about me, you embraced me. </em></p><p class="p1">You don’t need to turn to know that Kyungsoo is the one stringing the lovelorn melody together over the speakers right now, each word leaving his mouth dripping with passionate, tender emotion. This song of Baekhyun’s had come out deep in the throes of your trauma last year, a melody chained by the hefty despair crafted through each of the verses. The night of the song's premiere, your neighbor had played it in his kitchen as he was want to do for all the singer's new releases. As soon as the lyrics of the first chorus hit, he’d turned it off, not wanting to make you cry. But you’d gone home, listened to the whole thing through, and cried anyways.</p><p class="p1">As surely as Kyungsoo’s singing it to you in this moment, he must be thinking of that woman, the life that they shared together. You turn to watch him over your shoulder and his eyes are closed when he sings, he’s making his peace with recalling her memory and the storied annals of their relationship through song instead of being by her side. <em>Today it's raining again, it’s painfully raining. I let you go, like I did that day.</em></p><p class="p1">You’d cried the first time you’d heard this song, as you thought of Jeno, of how they’d taken him from your arms. How the mention of rain in the lyrics felt just like the symbolization of how your wretched tears had fallen on his soft forehead. But that night hadn’t happened yet, you hadn’t been forced into hearing the song through the cracks in your heart. It’d been raining that night, <em>his</em> hair had been dripping wet when he appeared on the front step of your home. You’d heard the symphony of drops hitting your room’s window as he’d held you in your bed.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Today it's raining again, I cannot sleep. It looks like I'm still not ready, it looks like I'm still waiting for you.</em>
</p><p class="p1">The gentle piano fades away, just as that night had faded into nothingness.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo shakes hands with the singer who steps back into place, then very clearly slips him a bill as payment for letting him have his moment. He swaggers back over to your booth as if he hadn’t just set the place into a pining frenzy. He’s done this all for a funny bit of attention, to prove a point that he could be the kind of boy to do something so dramatically over the top for you. The diners’ heads all turn to follow him as he walks by the row, to watch and see who he’s here with. It’s you, you who he offers a hand to, to help you out of the booth as he arrogantly scrawls his name over the check. You can actually see the people in the next booth over straining their ears to hear him ask you in full confidence, “You think the boy from home would do something like that for you?”</p><p class="p1">You’ll never get the chance to find out.</p><p class="p1">“You’re already at the front of the line,” you playfully argue, trying to get that feeling from earlier in the night back, “did you think that would get you something else?”</p><p class="p1">He lifts a saucy eyebrow. “I don’t know, did it?”</p><p class="p1">“You’re insufferable,” you huff, with enough taunt in your voice to tell him you’re kidding. You pretend to turn and walk away from him, but Kyungsoo catches you before you can take more than one step.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, come back for just a second.”</p><p class="p1">He brings you right back into his proximity, almost as close as he held you last night. You grasp right at the button of his suit jacket, hand tucking into the crook of space there as you whisper, “Are you trying to loiter, or do you want to go back to my house?”</p><p class="p1">It’s a wired insinuation, one that causes a red wine hue to dash over his cheeks. But he doesn't immediately oblige, he gives a slight tilt of his head to the side and murmurs, “Aren’t those your friends?” You take a peek and think you might see the dual flashes of silver and auburn hair. You’re about to tell him it’s fine to ignore Yuta and John when he grimaces, “Oh, the Regent is waving, we can’t avoid them now.”</p><p class="p1">That only causes you to grasp at his blazer more tightly, because when you turn to the side, to see who’s actually there, it’s way worse than you imagined. It’s Yuta and John, as you were able to see from your periphery, a swiveled Mimi, harshly glaring, plus Regent Jung and his wife sat at the head of the table. That means Jaehyun is there, Jaehyun who cannot take his eyes off the expanse of your unbound hair.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, y/n,” Jaehyun’s father greets you as you approach the table, jovially, unexpectedly, “Good to see you.”</p><p class="p1">You’re so taken aback by his pleasantries that you can only muster up a stiff nod, “Sir.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s nice that you’ve been able to make it out more often, now that you have your boyfriend here with you,” he says, again startling you with how much of a change of character this is. That might’ve been the first time he’s actually offered you a compliment.</p><p class="p1">“T-thank you,” you stutter, then remember who you’re with. “Sir, he’s not my b—,”</p><p class="p1">Regent Jung doesn’t let you finish your clarification, and cuts you off when he turns to address Kyungsoo, “I heard from Michael that you were here from Pandora. If you’re looking to buy a house and settle down in the area, I have a place that I’m sussing out buyers for.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo shoots you a <em>what the hell is he talking about</em> look, but politely answers, “You do?”</p><p class="p1">“Well, I’m not sure if you know, but my son and his girlfriend are preparing for their blossom ceremony, their first step towards marriage. It wouldn’t be suitable for him to live up in that house alone anymore, so we’re looking to sell.”</p><p class="p1">You’re sure if you hadn’t had your arm looped through Kyungsoo’s, that you would’ve taken a tumble right to the pristine marble floor.</p><p class="p1">“What?” you catch John’s whisper to Yuta, just as the other man also hisses, “Is he for real?”</p><p class="p1">They’re the only ones at the table who express any iota of surprise. Mr. and Mrs. Jung are clearly pleased about having their son return closer to city center. Mimi’s smug face revels in her victory. And Jaehyun coolly observes you from his seat, not even breaking a sweat at his father’s announcement. That means they’ve been planning this for a while.</p><p class="p1">Mrs. Jung nudges her husband in his side, then sweetly adds on, “Although, of course, you will probably want to live together, so maybe it’s a bit redundant for one couple to own both houses up there, Jefferson.”</p><p class="p1">She’s meant it in an incredibly pleasant manner, to keep the Regent from forcing you into a decision right now. In your brief interactions, she’s always been kind to you, perhaps in retribution for her husband’s poor attitude — but it is her words that drive the final stake right into your splintered heart. It was supposed to be hill houses forever, it was supposed to be your house and Jaehyun’s there <em>together</em>.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is forced to take over responding for both of you, lost as you are in the flooding sea of bitterness, “It’s a lovely area. I think you’ll be able to find someone who’d want to live there.”</p><p class="p1">“You know, it’s really nice to see all you kids settling down. It’s about time that you started to think about serious relationships. Especially you, y/n, we’ve wanted you to be happy for so long,” Mr. Jung sighs, like he’s looked out for you all this time, like he’s treated you the same the rest of his son’s friends, even when he hasn’t.</p><p class="p1">A stem of the flower closest to your ear itches at the soft skin there. You absentmindedly play with the bloom, tucking it away into your tresses, the inviting gesture drawing Jaehyun’s eye to your hair once again. It is cripplingly nauseating, how twinged with sadness his amber eyes get when he paints his gaze all over you.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” Kyungsoo answers again, on your behalf, then gently maneuvers you away, “We’ll be going now, enjoy your night.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s father has exploded the night into an extreme manifestation of paradoxical distress, stabbing through your lungs to the point where you’re forced into silence the entire drive home. You’d been entranced with Kyungsoo that entire dinner, swept off your feet and wooed by everything he’d said, the perceptions you shared, the gorgeous song he’d sung. Entranced to the point where you’d been longing to return home, to discover if what you thought was going to happen would.</p><p class="p1">You shouldn’t have stopped to say hello, so much of your life has been ruined by propriety. You would’ve preferred living in ignorance for just a moment longer. They’re going to be selling the other house, someone else is going to move in. That someone else that won’t keep their porch light on at night so you can sleep, that won’t be bold enough to see if your light is on to check on you. Even if Yuta, Mark, or John buys that house, you will never be satisfied again.</p><p class="p1">“Would you be totally pissed?” Kyungsoo wonders out loud once you’re back at home and both flopped onto the couch, on spots opposite from each other. You make a face of confusion, and he clarifies, “If I bought the house, solved your problems for you?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo buying the house would make no difference, either.</p><p class="p1">“Why would you ever want to live up here,” you gripe, tucking your knees into your chest as you gaze out the window. With the other occupant of this hill gone, there’s nothing left, not the view from this window, nor the flowers in your yard could change your mind.</p><p class="p1">“Well, you’re here.”</p><p class="p1">You think he’s joking, because the statement sounds absolutely ridiculous, and you press him, “No, be serious. And you can’t say the redeemable quality is the blueberry field, because you can get blueberries anywhere in town.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo doesn’t have to contemplate his answer because it comes out in an instant, “What if I said, completely seriously, that the redeeming quality really is you.”</p><p class="p1">That’s, well. That’s close enough to what you’d wanted to hear, a phrase he couldn’t have come up with himself. <em>It’s not complete without you</em>.</p><p class="p1">“I’d call you an idiot,” you mumble, that familiar bashfulness creeping up. You brush your chin into the apex of your shoulder, against the billowing curtain of your hair, idly wondering if the hue of your blush matches the peachy silk of your gown. Close enough might be good enough, really, it might.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo holds up a hand, softly instructing, “Wait, don’t move.”</p><p class="p1">You freeze, thinking the worst, like there’s some massive bug crawling its way over you, and you breathe out, “What, why?”</p><p class="p1">“I told you, I’d put a picture of you on my phone. And you look pretty like that.”</p><p class="p1">He sets your heartbeat off at a differently measured pace, not the stutter steps and perilous swoops that you’ve grown accustomed to. It’s a gradual crescendo of affection, first tiptoeing, then strolling, then sprinting its way right into your chest, until your heart is thudding in your ears as he raises his phone, upturning your lips into a closed-mouth crescent of tenderness. Then, you’re watching his determined fingers fly over the screen of his phone, watching the matching grin that stitches onto his face when he’s rewarded with the display of your image in the glowing light.</p><p class="p1">That distress that's consumed you since dinner is dissolving away into your parched throat. The mission is back on again, there’s only one destination this could be leading towards. Close enough is good enough, you’re going to make yourself believe that now.</p><p class="p1">“Can you get me a glass of water?” you croak, wanting a moment to yourself before you set out to the finish line. He gets up without a word, and you don’t dare to turn back and look at him, fixing your gaze onto the beckoning moon as you hear the sound of the sink running for a few seconds.</p><p class="p1">A warm hand rests against the back of your head, idly threading through your hair as he hands you the glass. You lean your head back into his palm so you can thank him, and are greeted with his mouth upon yours. Kyungsoo kisses you, one diagonal slant of his lips across yours before he removes his touch, hovering over you from above as he waits in anticipation.</p><p class="p1">There’s nothing more to say, all you do is grasp at the buttons of his shirt and lift your head to kiss him once again.Without breaking the press of his mouth upon yours, he clambers over the couch to nestle into the space beside you, to gently place his palm under your chin as he drinks you in, as you positively bury your frame into his, needing to feel him close. You’ll erase that night's memory with each of his kisses, by taking the lead and sweeping your tongue past his lips, to let him brush it with his.</p><p class="p1">You feel confident enough in your movement to eradicate the feeling this invokes that you let him take your waist in his hands, let him lift you right onto his lap, your legs splayed to his sides. You grip his face with your fingers as you kiss him again and again, his plump lips so soft under yours. The feel of his fingers in your hair is criminally calming, each touch of his taken with precise dignity in bringing you the utmost relief, in making you feel cared for.</p><p class="p1">When his hands are done exploring the magnificence of your hair, they begin to wander. Though they are respectful all the same, you aren't ready for the moment the pads of his fingers dip under the apex where your sleeve meets the low back of your dress. You hadn't taken any precautionary actions to conceal your scar, you have no idea how he hasn't startled away from you as his hands boldly stretch against that canyon of ruined skin. But you do know, he's too lost in the sensation of your body against his, your hot exhales cascading all over his lips in abandon, that he doesn't know what he's doing. He's too swept up in pushing one wispy sleeve off your shoulder, lips pressing into the slip of shoulder that's just barely, barely left unharmed. Kyungsoo's absolutely unable to control himself as he manages to sidestep your scar entirely, laving a kiss right against your throat, before he returns to kissing your mouth, clearly his favorite place. It's such a wildly contrasting sensation, having his hands grasping at your back with no restraint, after you'd been bestowed with such awfully great care that night. It only makes you want to grab his hands, to sear them right into your back to the point where you can't pick up on outlying sensations, can't remember anything other than the feel of his skin against yours. You'll let him touch your scar however he likes, maybe then you'll finally forget about it.</p><p class="p1">You open your eyes after a particularly longing kiss of his open mouth burrowed into yours, to soak the look of him in, his haphazardly gorgeous, predictable black hair and his surely tinted cheeks.But the sunrise of your new view only brings about the image of a head of curly hair resting upon your navy pillow, and a stare that cannot be duplicated. You blink once, and there Kyungsoo’s lovely charcoal eyes are, but the next blink you take recalls ones crafted out of amber.His eyelids flutter closed as he prepares to kiss you once more, and you screw your eyes shut, trying to banish that image once and for all.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, no,” you whisper. “Not like this, no.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t want him to stop, you think if he stops you’ll never be able to piece your heart together again, but you cannot go on in this arrangement. It evokes too much in you. You’d spent that entire night ensnared in this specific grasp, as long as Kyungsoo does not dare to to hold you in that way tonight, you’ll be fine. At least, that’s what you hope.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo ceases all movement save for sweeping a tendril of hair away from your face and asking, “Are you okay?”</p><p class="p1">“Just let me move, for a sec,” you plead softly.</p><p class="p1">In a flash, you moving to get off of him and settle down onto the couch, having the protective hold of the cushions behind your head, an ally in your defense. You lie back, like you’re descending into the loveliest field of flowers, even though it’s the same suede you always sit on. He quickly follows your lead, shedding his jacket and draping himself into the space beside you, hand coming to rest under the flipped up fabric of your skirt, fingers warm against your leg. This is it, this is the moment of truth. You drop your eyelids shut, and then you open them. And by some fortuitous grace, you only see Kyungsoo’s face.</p><p class="p1">“Okay,” you murmur, thumb caressing the healed spot on his eyebrow where he’d been cut. “I’m okay.”</p><p class="p1">He kisses you once more, and that’s that.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">By the time the morning sun hits your face the next morning you’re already rousing into consciousness, the image of your pink dress folded up neatly on the ottoman filtering in to your vision. There’s a gigantic crick in your neck that you can feel, and as you try to crack the discomfort out of your body, you mutter to yourself, “These couches are good for sleeping, but not for trying to sleep with another person.”</p><p class="p1">“We could’ve used your bedroom, but nooooo.”</p><p class="p1">You go entirely rigid at the statement that you hear. But Kyungsoo will only think you’re surprised he’s awake too, not that you’re paralyzed by the reminder of why you chose to avoid your room in the first place. Saved again by the hand of the universe.</p><p class="p1">His hand curls around your shoulder, turning you to face him, sandwiched together on the meager cushions. His hair is all over his forehead in handsome disarray, and it brushes against yours when he indulges in a exceptionally raunchy kiss for this early in the morning. He props himself up on his elbow, then softly says, “Okay, I know it’s early in the morning and you look groggy as hell. But I have what might be a completely absurd haze of sleeping together question.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve already done everything together, there’s no reason for your cheeks to pink when he mentions your dalliance, but they do when you nod, “Go for it.”</p><p class="p1">“Would you want to get out of here?”</p><p class="p1">“What?” Like to go out and get breakfast? That wouldn’t actually be half bad, but you’d probably have to put clothes on first.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s face falls a morsel out of the pure satisfaction he’d been wearing, then he carefully explains himself, “Like, our conversation last night made it clear that you’d rather be anywhere but here. And home doesn’t feel the same for me anymore.”</p><p class="p1">He didn’t mean get out of the house for breakfast, he meant get out of this <em>city. </em> You’ve already wished more than once to go back to his home with him, but you really cannot afford to return. Not there. Your hand must've gone to clutch at your heart in surprise, because his hand is suddenly sandwiched between your river-rapid roar of a heartbeat, and your trembling fingers. “Where would we go? I can’t go back to Pandora. You know I can’t.”</p><p class="p1">“No, I would never ask you to, and I don't think I could stomach going back either,” he denies your theory, only offering a cryptic, “I meant somewhere else.”</p><p class="p1">You roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling, at the rose gold chandelier Yuta had installed for you, and sigh, “Kyungsoo, I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s no pressure and no worries, I get that Neozone has a lot of precious memories to you,” Kyungsoo reassures, not wanting to shoehorn you into anything. He hesitates, and there is so much that could be hanging off the end of the sentence that none of your anxiety dissipates. What he says does not even come close to what you’d been imagining, “But my friend that is in town offered. And he wants to go to his place today.”</p><p class="p1">“Today?” you exhale in surprise, running a hand through your hair. “Jesus, this is a lot.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have ever brought it up. Never mind—,”</p><p class="p1">He comes across so adorably flustered that you hasten to convince him that this isn’t an outright denial, “No! No. Just, give me a bit. I need to think.” You kiss him, as the extra nudge to prove your point, then suggest, “Why don’t you go shower, and then we can talk. Surely your friend can wait a little bit more?”</p><p class="p1">“Surely he can,” Kyungsoo muses, before he steals yet another kiss and gets up to head to the bathroom.</p><p class="p1">When the door is closed behind him, you blow out another deflating breath, pressing a hand to your forehead as you contemplate his request. You’ve been asked to leave once before, the day Michael had begged you to accompany his family to Pandora. You’d refused on the principle of Jeno’s lingering memory, how you’d felt like it was too much of an attempt at moving on from him for it to be an appropriate move. Mark had hit the nail on the head once, it’s always felt like you’re away from prying eyes up here, safe and cozy with the one person that made you feel this way the whole time. But is there anything left for you here? You find you're grasping at straws for a reason to deny Kyungsoo.</p><p class="p1">A sharp rap comes through the door, the night guard’s visitor’s signal, and you slip on an errant pair of sweats to get up and pad to your entryway. Maybe that’s Yuta, here for the one day a week you’ve allowed him to stand guard outside of the house. Good. You could use his perspective on what you’re pondering.</p><p class="p1">You throw the door open, and fuck, it’s not Yuta. It’s Jaehyun, looking sleepless and haggard, words barely audible, “We need to talk.”</p><p class="p1">You cross your arms over your chest and glare at him. You have to stand your ground this time, you have to. “I don’t think we do.”</p><p class="p1">“Are you really dating Mark’s Pandora friend?” he blurts it anyways, unable to hold the question in.</p><p class="p1">Damn that absolute lurch beneath your sternum, why, why, why can’t you control that, even still? At least your words come out semi-controlled, “Why does it matter to you?”</p><p class="p1">“I— uh, I,” he stutters.</p><p class="p1">“Let me repeat, why does it matter to you?” you shove a harsh finger in his chest, tone icily cold. “You said it with your own mouth, it’s whatever I want.” You’d given him that option to be said whatever, but he didn’t realize what a privilege that was to receive. You’ve given him chance after chance after chance, six years of devotion, only to be rewarded with one night and a whole barrage of hell to follow. So yes, it is now whatever you want.</p><p class="p1">“You’ve known this guy for what? Like a month?” Jaehyun gripes in exasperation, pushing his hair back from his forehead as he starts to sweat with stress at your defiance.</p><p class="p1">“No,” you bite out the rotten truth, “he was there. He was the one who broke my hand. He knows me in a way no one else could because of that.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s gaze goes flying straight to your left palm, thinking of the tattoo of amour he’d left there after he kissed it, and it all comes together for him. Your unusual closeness to the seeming stranger, how you’d always spend time together, why everyone, Taeil Moon included, seemed to think you were already dating. Why you’d continually blown off Sunday dinners in favor of being with someone else. And while Jaehyun won’t ever know that you still deeply prefer his comfort, he’s surely dejected now, knowing he can’t ever hold that specific kind of empathy for you, because only Kyungsoo had the rotten privilege of sharing that experience.</p><p class="p1">“If I want to be with him, I will. And it’s certainly none of your business,” you proclaim, in the haughty way you’ve longed to lord over him since that night.</p><p class="p1">He’s going to protest, something in you knows he will, how can you make him understand this is no longer up for debate? Shit. You have one weapon in your arsenal that is so dastardly you aren’t sure if you’re prepared to wield it. But you think of how he’d received your most unfeigned confession and tossed it away without a care, and you heft it in your hand.</p><p class="p1">“By the way, Kyungsoo isn’t actually from Pandora. He’s from Neozone. Which also makes him a boy from home that I could see myself marrying.”</p><p class="p1">There it is, the guilt you thought Jaehyun wasn’t capable of displaying ever again. It fills him up from seam to seam, remorse aching out of every one of his pores. You’d told him to his face, <em>the boy from home was you,</em> that was a precious spot for him to fill, you didn’t want anyone else to assume that role. When you thought of home, you thought of him. Now you’re attempting to undo it all, to place Kyungsoo, the safe option, upon that pedestal instead.</p><p class="p1">“What’s going on?”</p><p class="p1">Surely in remedy for all the adversity it’s bestowed upon you, the universe provides you with another moment of salvation, in the form of your bodyguard, walking up the porch to exchange places with the man who’d been here overnight. He eyes you and his friend, enmeshed in your argument, but doesn’t say anything.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, Yuta, you’re just in time,” you feign like there is something important you both have to get to, inserting in just enough distress that Yuta, the man who knows you better than almost anyone, will pick up on it.</p><p class="p1">And pick up on it he does, sternly blocking out Jaehyun from your doorway with a firm, “My apologies, sir, you’re going to have to leave now.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun doesn’t do as instructed, he just continues to stand there, eyes silently begging you to say something to fix this. But it’s his problem now, not yours. You allow Yuta, and Yuta only, to come inside your home, and then you slam the door in Jaehyun’s face.</p><p class="p1">“What the hell was that?” Yuta exclaims the moment you’re alone. “That was so weird!”</p><p class="p1">“I am going to go,” you blurt, decision made in those harrowing few minutes. You’re going to go, you can’t stay here any longer.</p><p class="p1">“Go? Go where?”</p><p class="p1">“Somewhere that’s not here. Just for a little while.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, slow down and explain to me where all of this is coming from!” Yuta pleads. He grasps your shoulders and gives you a light shake, thinking that you’re in the midst of another breakdown, attempting to bring you back to your senses like he'd used to during your crying fits. But this isn't a breakdown, this is a stark moment of clarity you've been blindly lunging for for some time now.</p><p class="p1">You gently take his hands off you to hold them, to whisper right to them, “I can’t heal here, there are too many memories. Going somewhere else is the only thing I can think of that can fix me.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh. Oh, y/n,” he breathes out, full of hurt on your behalf. He’s seen it all, he knows that this is necessary. And you’ll let him assume it’s because of Jeno. “But are you going to be safe? At least let me come with you!”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll be with her, dude,” Kyungsoo’s even voice comes pealing out of the guest bedroom as he emerges, dressed in a black sweater and jeans, wet hair hanging over his glasses. “You may not like it, but you’re going to have to be okay with it.”</p><p class="p1">There used to be so much animosity held between these two men, but all of it has been lost. Yuta concedes first as he shoots an approving smile in Kyungsoo’s direction, “No, I. I think that will be good.”</p><p class="p1">“I need your help though, Yuta,” you tug at his hands to get him focused back on you. “I cannot have Jaehyun alerting the whole town that I’m strolling out of here.” If your neighbor’s spent dutiful watch over your window for the past year, there’s no way he’s going to stop now, especially after you’ve both crushed each other so.</p><p class="p1">“That’s no problem. You’ll go separately. I’ll take the car and drop off Kyungsoo, and you take the back trail to the cemetery. Meet at the entrance.”</p><p class="p1">He nods to Kyungsoo, who repeats the gesture, the two of them in agreement as to what the plan is. He hadn’t done much unpacking in his time in your home, so it doesn’t take long for the two men to have his backpack and duffle sorted out. Before you know it, Yuta is approaching you one last time. It feels too much like this is the final time, even though you’re not entirely sure if it is. You want to hold on to this moment, just a bit longer.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll call Mark,” you start, and Yuta finishes with his innate sense, “I’ll tell the others. I know.”</p><p class="p1">You crush yourself into his arms, your ice prince, the one man who would stand by your side forever if you’d asked, and you hold onto him desperately. He’d protected you from the very first moment you met, when he’d held your hand as he escorted you to the summer party, and he’s still doing it now. “I love you, y/n,” he whispers into your shoulder, “please let this not be our last goodbye.”</p><p class="p1">“It won’t be,” you swear, tossing aside any premonitions of the opposite. “I love you, too.”</p><p class="p1">Then, they go, and you don’t have much time left.</p><p class="p1">In the essence of hurrying, you make do with the clothes you have scattered around the living room, shoving all of them into the bag you pull out from the hallway closet, knowing that wherever you’re going will surely have stores to buy clothes in. If worst comes to worst, and Kyungsoo is taking you out to the middle of nowhere, you can simply make them. You pull out the unused Nokia phone from one of your old purses and toss it in with the rest of your things, along with the framed portrait of you with the Lees that had been on your windowsill, and the sewing kit that’s never left your sight.</p><p class="p1">Gritting your teeth, you run up to your room to retrieve one thing you know you can’t go without. The hurt of that particular location doesn’t even take its time to return, it bombards you as you kneel on the floor in front of your closet, tossing aside your spare pillow, and absolutely heaving that fucking needlepoint out of the way. Both are items that should’ve been discarded, but may as well be memorialized here when you leave. You dig through the rest of your stuff, and find it, the yellowed envelope you’d thrown in here with the rest of the mementos that reminded you of Jaehyun. You can’t leave this behind, you’ll allow yourself the one memory. You stick it in the very bottom of your bag.</p><p class="p1">Exiting your home through the backyard door, you stop to pluck out a sprig of stellaria from your yard, to dry when you get to your destination, and then you’re off. There’ll be time later, to unpack what exactly leaving the house that you’ve loved for so long means to you, but that time is not now. You take the steps down the hill two at a time, bag clanging against your side as you move with urgency.</p><p class="p1">You blow a kiss in the direction of Jeno’s grave as the cemetery comes into view, but you can’t stop to say goodbye. There’s already a nondescript black Toyota waiting on the road, one with a familiar head of black hair in the passenger seat. You knock on the window and wave, and Kyungsoo unlocks the car for you, allowing you to sit in the back seat and finally let out the breath you’ve been holding in.</p><p class="p1">“Well it’s high time that I finally met you,” a cheery voice breezes out from the driver’s seat, and you almost pass the fuck out when you look into the rear view mirror.</p><p class="p1">“Hold on,” you cough, “is this a joke?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, I guess introductions are in order,” Kyungsoo says, fully amused, as he turns to the man behind the wheel of the car and points back to you, “This is y/n. Y/n, this is my friend, Baekhyun.”</p><p class="p1">There is no way you’re sitting in mega celebrity, hottie heartthrob, world record breaking, honey voice to end all honey voices, Baekhyun Byun’s car. Beyond that, that he and Kyungsoo know each other, and furthermore, seem to be exceedingly close? What in the hell is he doing in this decrepit for his standards car, and what the hell is he doing in Neozone? Aren't the borders supposed to be fully closed, there's no way Elyxion's most famous man is here in your city right now, you're making things up.</p><p class="p1">“Get your seatbelt on little lady, it’s going to be one hell of a ride!” Baekhyun puts on a false country twang as he revs the car. You speed away from the cemetery in a flash of rubber before you can get anymore questions out. </p><p class="p1">With the pointed lack of sleep from last night, and all of the emotions of the morning, you end up passing out the moment Baekhyun turns the car onto Heaven’s Highway. What you wake up to a few hours later, what should otherwise be a blip on the side of the road, is an image you’ll never forget. It’s a rather nondescript sign, shrouded in vines and covered in the haze of a cool night's fog, painted in blue and stood tall in the dirt. But it’s what it says that’s unforgettable.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Now entering Elyxion.</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>-END OF PART ONE-</strong>
</p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA. HAHAHA. SURPRISE!!!!</p><p>i am now updating my schedule to two chapters per week or so because.......... drum roll please........ I FINISHED WRITING THE STORY!!!!!!! don't get me wrong i have a MASSIVE, MASSIVE editing session in store for me, but it's done! and i don't want to have these postings drag into 2021 which is what would happen if i kept updating once a week. im selfish and want to see all your reactions so u will get multiple updates ;) </p><p>hope you enjoyed pt. 1! and the song that ksoo sings at the restaurant is rain by soyou and bbh! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. bellis perennis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You can’t make it happen anymore, and I can’t make it happen anymore, so why let these continue to run our lives?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WELCOME TO PART 2!!!!!!!! time jump alert, some of which may be filled in with deleted scenes in the future. i just. need to get this story moving lol so sorry if a lot of this feels like set up, it's really going to get into it from here on out</p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art). i was too lazy to draw it in but the lake is right by Elyxion the capital, it's on the outskirts of the city.</p><p>and if you forgot Dorado's history, go back to chapter one for a free lesson from our collective dad Michael</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong>-PART TWO-</strong>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Today would truly be the perfect end of summer day. Ninth Cloud Lake has not dipped a degree below comforting warmth, the robins have been chirping in the trees all afternoon, the breeze flutters through the navy and white flag strung up on the neighbor’s dock. You think it <em>would</em> be the perfect day, if only the people with you would shut the hell up. You don’t think you’ve spent a single day of your six months in Elyxion without the ambient noise of Baekhyun and Kai’s persistent bickering in your ear.</p><p class="p1">“Ten bucks says he’s not even as hot as Suho said he was!” Baekhyun confidently bets as he lowers himself onto the deck outside of his summer home, and puts feet into the still warm water of the lake.</p><p class="p1">Kai rushes to sit by his friend, legs making a huge splash as they hit the water. He pouts, “I don’t believe that. Suho is a god, he needs someone to match him.”</p><p class="p1">“Shh, shh, they’re coming!” you hiss as you peer over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of two people walking hand in hand through the living room. God is pretty much the only term appropriate enough to describe Baekhyun’s manager, a chiseled prince of perfection with his long brown hair and statuesque face. He’d been tempting you with the news of his mysterious boyfriend for weeks on end now, to the point where you and the other guys were half convinced that this Sehun was a made up person.</p><p class="p1">But here they come now, and you can already tell from your spot on the dock that Baekhyun will have to pay up.</p><p class="p1">“Normal human faces on, people!” Kyungsoo laughs, poking Kai in the side so he’ll stop gaping. “And three, two, one.”</p><p class="p1">“Whaaaaaat’s up!” the three of you cry happily in unison when Suho and Sehun make their way out to the picnic you have ready.</p><p class="p1">The couple freeze in surprise when they see the set up you’ve prepared, not anticipating your first meeting to go like this. Kai had just wanted to order fried chicken and call it a day, but you’d insisted the men put in a little bit of effort to welcome their friend’s partner. That’s how you’ve ended up with the blanket spread out on the dock, topped with Kyungoo’s stir fry in a glass serving bowl, two bottles of fancy Pandora wine, and the napkins you’d embroidered for Baekhyun as a <em>thank you for letting me stay in your house </em>gift.</p><p class="p1">“Everyone, this is Sehun,” Suho introduces the other young man after they’ve sat down. “Sehun, this is everyone. Kai, Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and y/n.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not even surprised that Sehun is also one of the most stunning men you’ve ever seen, tall and lithe with a pair of wildly expressive eyebrows and gorgeous platinum blonde hair. You’d thought that sort of egregious beauty was a Neozone specific phenomenon, but coming here and meeting Baekhyun’s posse had been a whole other level. Though it has taken you the entire summer to get to this point, it doesn’t even feel that weird anymore, to be within the inner circle of Dorado’s greatest singer.</p><p class="p1">You take his hand and welcome him with as much friendliness as you can, “Lovely to meet you. Where are you from, Sehun?”</p><p class="p1">Despite his cold looking exterior, Sehun giggles after you shake his hand, and has a sweet voice you were not completely expecting, “I was born here in Elyxion, but my family lives in Oasis now. What about you guys?”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun swings an arm around Kai who does the same around Suho, and the singer proudly proclaims, “We’re all Elyxion kids, except for those two, who just had to go and be from Neozone.” He juts his chin out to where you’re sitting, leaned up against Kyungsoo, and the man behind you lets out an audible groan.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, I’m the only one here actually from Neozone, y/n is from Zero Mile,” Kyungsoo protests, nudging you in the back. You’re not a Zero Mile girl, not at all, the lie crept back up even though you’re in the region you know you were raised in. You’re too used to the reassurance of the lie that you can’t protest at his words, all you can do is stick your tongue out in mock offense.</p><p class="p1">“Zero Mile?” Sehun’s brow furrows as he’s picturing the map of Dorado in his head. “Isn’t that the weird like, theological city town place in Neozone?”</p><p class="p1">You tense a bit from where you’re sprawled, hoping that the towel around your shoulders masks the tic the best it can. You’ve never bothered to find out more details about Zero Mile beyond its tiny size and location. Everyone back home always knew what you were talking about when you gave them the falsehood and didn’t press you further. Even Premier Kim had let it go when he’d asked, and as of late, it never came up beyond your conversation with Mark. </p><p class="p1">Kai covers it for you, unwitting and quite smoothly by asking, confused, “What are you even talking about?”</p><p class="p1">Suho nods in affirmation of his boyfriend’s question and slaps his other friend on the back, “Oh, come on, you don’t remember the history lessons about Taeyong Lee that we learned back in the day?” Both you and Kyungsoo glance at each other in interest, and Suho explains the answer to your silent question, “We had to be well rounded about our educations if you can’t tell. Yeah, he was from that town, they’re super into the Zodiac or something there, he used to plan his attacks based on how the moon turned or whatever made the day lucky.”</p><p class="p1">It’s not surprising to you that you didn’t know any of this. This is the kind of information your father would’ve glossed over in your education, and once you made it to the Lees, there was no need for history lessons anymore. The legendary warrior was held as a revered icon back home, but one treated with muted and faint respect, left in the annals of history where he’d built his legacy. What is actually surprising is the fact that Neozone’s history has been taught to the kids here. That certainly wasn’t the case back home, you still couldn’t name a single one of Elyxion’s leaders from their years and years of existence.</p><p class="p1">“I remember all of that,” Baekhyun confirms he holds the same knowledge, it's not just Suho, “Taeyong was a legend. Did you know that he retired here after the war? He had the place across the way.” He gestures to a beautifully understated small cottage past the broad curve of the lake. You all glance to appreciate the simplicity in the midst of opulence as he continues, “People in the city hated him for years because he took back land that he viewed as rightfully his, then he retires here, opens schools and starts donating to those orphaned by his own campaign, and they respect him again.”</p><p class="p1">You didn’t think this meet-the-boyfriend dinner was going to turn into an eye-opening history lesson, but this is fascinating. You're pretty sure this isn’t common knowledge. The citizens of Neozone would never take their historical hero freely living in contested territory with an open mind. They definitely don’t all know.</p><p class="p1">“Anyways, y/n, I can’t believe you haven’t mentioned any of this. You don’t strike me as the sacramental type,” Baekhyun turns all the attention back to you, assuming you would’ve been like every other Zero Mile citizen who apparently grew up believing in the Zodiac as a guiding way of life. Even Kyungsoo looks interested that a persistent belief in heavenly favor has not once cropped up in your conversations.</p><p class="p1">“We, uh, not all of us follow that thinking,” you lie easily, hoping it's one that makes sense in the context of knowledge you barely have. You tie it off with a neat truth, though, “but I haven’t seen myself as being from Zero Mile in a long time.”</p><p class="p1">You still being uncomfortable with revealing that you are from Tactix mostly stems from the fact that you have not <em>felt</em> like you were from that small woodland town since the moment you stepped off the train in Neozone. And you have to keep reminding yourself that you do have a seed packet, you are actually from the region of Neozone somewhere, so this isn’t a total lie either.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, Vice Premier’s princess, rub it in even further,” Kai digs at you, using the familiar nickname they had all thought up once they found out who your family was. They don’t even mean it in a mean way, Michael has an extremely positive reputation here in the region, he is one of a handful of Neozone citizens that is widely supported, perhaps due to his continuing support of them.</p><p class="p1">“Wrong side of the border, either way!” Baekhyun ribs, though there is no true animosity behind his statement. This is the one thing you’re not quite used to yet, joking about where you’re from without fear of repercussion or judgement. Sure, you’ve witnessed the small barbs and the teasing, but you’d not once felt any kind of fear that they’d judge you for being from Neozone. Holding onto your secret was your own personal dilemma you still haven’t felt ready to unpack.</p><p class="p1">That means it’s safe for you to sling back a, “You’re just jealous because we have the flower fields and you don’t!”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun pulls a displeased, distorted face in an attempt to hide his jealousy, and the five of you burst out into peals of laughter at his accompanying groan. Sehun watches your group with full interest, wondering out loud, “Suho said he went to college with y’all, but I don’t remember hearing about a girl?”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, Kai, and Suho had all been in the same acapella club at XK University and have basically been best friends ever since. That’s part of the reason why you felt so at home upon arriving at Elyxion. It was like you stepped out of your Neozone nucleus into a parallel universe’s iteration of it. Like how it happened once before, you’d been brought into the circle of four incredibly handsome young men bonded into brotherhood, and all they needed was the female interloper you had been back home.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n is Kyungsoo’s gir—,” Kai begins, but he’s cut off before the full word can come out.</p><p class="p1">“Not his girlfriend!” Baekhyun reminds the man in a pointed, sarcastic voice, after having sat through this discussion many a time. Kyungsoo’s fingers dance into your side, tickling at you for a hint of a moment, and your elbow gently collides with his stomach.</p><p class="p1">“Right, lady friend,” Kai corrects himself, shooting a sly look your way. “Or perhaps boy toy.”</p><p class="p1">You grit your teeth in irritation at the term he’d long before chosen to address you with and still insists upon using, in tandem with Kyungsoo’s groan, “You’re literally annoying.”</p><p class="p1">Sehun is clearly confused by this back and forth and Baekhyun waves it away, being the voice of reason, “They’re dating or whatever. Just let them be in their own weird world. What do you do, Sehun?”</p><p class="p1">Ideal transition, tonight is about Suho’s relationship, not yours. It’s cute, the way he swells in pride when his boyfriend explains, “I’m a dance teacher, though my father probably wishes I’d do anything but.” You hum in sympathy, knowing the toll a disapproving parent can take. He doesn’t seem to be too affected, and suavely carries on the conversation, “There’s no need to ask what you do, Mr. Byun, but what do the rest of you do?” Baekhyun grins sheepishly, still uncomfortable with the degree of reach his fame holds. You poke at his thigh in teasing, and he winks at you.</p><p class="p1">“I’m his choreographer, yo!” Kai explains first, puffing out his chest in a show of bravado to impress the fellow artist.</p><p class="p1">There’s no tension, there’s only genuine excitement, no doubt in Sehun’s joy to find someone to bond with over dance. They slap hands like they’re old friends, and Sehun heartily exclaims, “My man!”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo takes the next turn, drawling a lazy, “I’m an unemployed slob,” the blasé turn of phrase making you all laugh. He’s the cleanest person you’ve ever met, and though he continues to stay out of the workforce, you know he’s accomplished enough to snap his fingers and get any political job he wanted.</p><p class="p1">“Respect, dude,” Sehun nods solemnly, like he wishes he’d come up with that idea first. Then, he turns to you, “And what do you do, y/n who I’ve not heard of and who isn’t Kyungsoo’s girlfriend?”</p><p class="p1">The blush that dusts over your cheeks, even still at that description, matches the hue of pink the sky is turning as the sun dips low. You lean further into Kyungsoo’s hold, his fingers pressing into the curve of your waist, and you shrug, “Well, I mostly freeload and express patriotism for the wrong region.” That earns you another round of groans from the men, and you carry on with a chuckle in your voice, “Other than that, not much, sew a little, watch baseball a little.”</p><p class="p1">The kind of life you’ve always wanted.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t tell me you’re a Bats fan,” Sehun moans, things for him going swimmingly up until that point.</p><p class="p1">Your eyes narrow out of friendly competition, and you deadpan, “Don’t tell me you’re a Wolves fan.”</p><p class="p1">Though the level of rivalry at the athletic level does not come anywhere close to touching the tension held between the two regions at the political level, it’s second nature, for fans of the Neozone Bats to hate the Elyxion Wolves, and vice versa. You’re in enemy territory here, you have to make sure he never sees the Moon jersey tucked in the bottom of your suitcase. Baekhyun, Kai, and Kyungsoo all hold their breath as they anticipate the newcomer’s reaction to your retort.</p><p class="p1">“Do I have to like her?” Sehun bends over to whisper into Suho’s ear, being not at all subtle about it.</p><p class="p1">You burst out into a cackle just as Suho whispers back, “You know you already like her.”</p><p class="p1">The exchange summons a cherished memory, of a boy who’d asked you the same thing when you’d first met. It also summons the ringing of your phone, strewn by your shoes. You know who it is, no one else calls you at this hour on a Friday, so you excuse yourself from the conversation, scoop up your phone, and go running to your bedroom on the second floor.</p><p class="p1">Once you’re flopped against the pillows of your bed, you answer, “Bumble!”</p><p class="p1">“Hey, bee!” Mark chirps, with the same enthusiasm he has every phone call. “What’s up!”</p><p class="p1">“At dinner, meeting Suho’s new boyfriend.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh shit, is he as hot as you thought he was going to be?”</p><p class="p1">You think of how majestic Sehun looked, draped against the stunning backdrop of Ninth Cloud Lake, and grin, knowing your previous prediction was right. “Hotter. What’s up with you?”</p><p class="p1">“Reading some legislation with Dad,” he replies, then lets out a yawn to inform you of his true feelings on his Friday night activities. “Nothing of importance, just some new traffic laws, so it’s more like I’m trying to stay awake right now.”</p><p class="p1">That is Mark’s subtle way of telling you yet another laborious stalemate of a week has passed. He couldn’t care less about the broader world of politics, but had steadily attached himself to his father’s work in order to keep you informed on a personal level. If the most involved thing the Vice Premier is doing is overseeing traffic laws for Pandora, that’s a good thing.</p><p class="p1">“How is he?” you ask.</p><p class="p1">Your conversations with Michael are far more sparse than the ones you share with his son, but it’s not because you’re still in that bad place from last year. You’re living your life and he’s living his. Sometimes it’s hard to talk to him more than Mark, because it feels like you shouldn’t have left the house he bought for you. But he wasn’t mad when you called, he only instructed you to be safe and keep in touch with his son.</p><p class="p1">“Good, busy,” Mark replies, simple, as you hear the flutter of him turning pages. “Nothing’s changed, it’s really been the status quo here.” There’s a specific pause, then,“Have you talked to Yuta or John recently?”</p><p class="p1">You can’t even recall the last time a topic has so valiantly attempted to get you to re-offend in your old habits, to pinch at the surface of your palm in a pained jolt. It’s been six months, and the supernova of reticence that extends from Neozone to Elyxion has swallowed up everything in its vicinity. The last you saw of John was his stunned face at Sun &amp; Moon upon seeing you dressed in your finery, the final moment with Yuta was your tearful hug in the entryway of your old home. You’d bought a new phone after coming here, gave the number only to Mark, your old device left for dead in the bottom of your suitcase.</p><p class="p1">But it’s neither of those thoughts that is urging your hand into the other’s orbit. You’re temptingly close to ruining all of your hard work to stop in that nervous habit only at the very, very, <em>very</em> noticeable omission from that sentence.</p><p class="p1">“No,” you answer quietly. “Have you?”</p><p class="p1">“No. Like I said, status quo,” his voice echoes the muted tonality of yours, and his answer inflicts more hurt upon you than you’d been prepared for. There was never an onus on Markk to follow you in loyal silence, but it’s the same question exchange every call, followed by the same response. He has not spoken to his friends in the time since, just as you haven’t.</p><p class="p1">You’re compelled to protest against his steadfastly closed lips, because you know how much they mean to him, “Mark, you should call them if you want, don’t feel like you need to keep them at arm’s length because I do.”</p><p class="p1">“Nah, I think it’s weird at this point to reach out. The break has been good. It’s been months but going home last time was,” he fumbles to find the right words, settling for a flimsy, “it was a lot.” Mark’s trip to Neozone feels like it transpired a lifetime’s worth of anguish ago, the cracks between you two mended at way too stiff a price.</p><p class="p1">“And besides, it’s not like they make an effort either,” Mark continues on, voice finally morose. You wouldn’t know, because you’ve never let yourself give into the temptation to turn that phone back on, but you’re sure he’s right. You can’t imagine there are too many voicemails lost in that darkness. “They probably still haven’t forgiven me for bringing Kyungsoo back into your life.”</p><p class="p1">He’s said it as a joke, to try and lighten the air into your usually jovial conversations, but there is a bit too much truth hefted behind it. When you’d called and told him that you left for Elyxion, Mark’s first stunned and disbelieving question was, <em>do you think the boys will blame me for setting you and Kyungsoo up? </em>You’d made your peace with Yuta and John, but you wonder if the sentiment still lingers over the hill, that the wrong boy from home had stolen you away from said place.</p><p class="p1">“Shut up?” you move past the treacherous hole of turmoil and force yourself into cheeriness, “I’ll get him to call you tomorrow, I think. I have a feeling we’ll be up tonight.”</p><p class="p1">“Get it, Mrs. Do,” he teases, and you can practically see his churlish grin all the way in Pandora. That is not what you meant!</p><p class="p1">“Get your mind out of the gutter, we have a visitor!” you huff, drowned out by his badgering <em>suuuure. </em>You glance up to the door of the room and see someone waiting for you, so you sign off with the same affectionate phrase you always use, “Tell your pops I said hi. Love you.”</p><p class="p1">You could fall asleep every night to the loop of Mark’s warm, congenial, “Love you too, bee.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is on the bed beside you by the time the line has clicked dead. His hands run through your newly-short hair as he leans over to kiss you on the cheek and ask, “How’s Mark?”</p><p class="p1">You return the gesture, kissing him right back on the curve of his squishy cheek, and respond, “He’s good, I promised you’d call him tomorrow.”</p><p class="p1">“Sounds fine to me,” he nods in acceptance of you moving his usual Friday night call to Mark that accompanies yours to Saturday instead. After a moment of thoughtful silence, he sighs, “We really should get the two of them down here for a visit.”He must feel the lightning rod of tension that sears through you at the suggestion, because he turns over in concern, “What?”</p><p class="p1">No matter where you are, there are a precise set of images you’ll never be able to forget. Mark’s devastated face that night of your fight, Jeno terrified face languishing away in your arms, and Michael’s bloodied face slumped in his living room. No matter the length of time you’ve passed here in this idyllic setting, you can never stop looking over your shoulder in worry. You don’t have a problem telling him this, “I don’t think the Vice Premier and his son can just go strolling into Elyxion without exploding people’s heads.”</p><p class="p1">You still don’t know how Baekhyun knew what seemed to be the one location on the Elyxion-Neozone border that didn’t have an armed guard checkpoint that you needed to cross. Security has, and still is so tight that Michael and Mark coming to visit would be a national spectacle. You’ve had that lingering edge, that someone would spill where you were from and you would sow the consequences, you can’t imagine flaunting it in public like this.</p><p class="p1">“It’s not like the Vice Premier’s never been here before,” Kyungsoo says, not knowing the context you’re thinking of. “It could just be a visit, don’t you want to see Mark?”</p><p class="p1">“You really think that it’d be <em>just a visit? </em>I could count the number of times a regent or official from Neozone has come here lately and vice versa.” Outside of official government business, the last time there had been any sort of willing crossover had been at Jeno’s funeral. Regent Oh had been quite lambasted in the media after his display of support, and though you had an idea of his proper intentions, he hadn’t tried to broach the regional gap again.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo knows you’ve won this argument and concedes as much, the hidden away gallows humor creeping through, “You’re right. Just because things have been quiet for some time now doesn’t mean that they couldn’t get randomly kidnapped on their way here!”</p><p class="p1">Your simultaneous winces give way to a host of empathetic giggles, and there might be nothing better than Kyungsoo’s deep laughter in your ear as he pulls you into his embrace, hands slipping under your shirt, roaming all over your scar as he’s want to do. You’ve become a true professional at freeing yourself from of the bundle of nerves that always creeps up when you let him do this, you twist your head so you can lay your cheek on his chest and not give him the chance to see the disquiet in your eyes. As he is prone to do, his face composes itself into seriousness, and each of his following, choosy words is imbued with care, “I want you to see Mark, though. I know you miss him, I can tell.”</p><p class="p1">You’d thought this sensation would dull over time, the tremulous yet steady cacophony of heartbeats he sets alight in you, but here they are again. No one’s ever looked out for you in this way, has pursued full understanding of the range of your emotions, has tried to pluck out each one so beautifully. Filled with girlish delight, your ever present state around Kyungsoo, you lean back up to kiss him, lazily, luxuriously, not at all proper with the way your mouth opens, impatient and wanting over his. He slides onto his back so you’re lying on top of him, your lips taking their sweet time to tease his as much as possible.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, you can’t kiss me like that if you’re not my girlfriend,” he whines in mock protest, after you move to kiss him on the cheek.</p><p class="p1">You roll your eyes internally, you can’t believe he’s trying to hold this over your head. You bring your mouth close to his, tempting him with another morsel of lust, but when his greedy lips give chase, you pull your head completely out of his way. “You were the one who made the rule, idiot.”</p><p class="p1">When you arrived at Baekhyun’s lake house, by the outskirts of the capital, Kyungsoo had pulled you to the side before you met the singer’s entourage. He’d looked so nervous, you were afraid he was actually going to throw up when the words tumbled out, <em>Would it be okay if I didn’t call you my girlfriend? </em>You had to control yourself from laughing in his face, this being something that had never, ever crossed your mind. You’d had no qualms agreeing. You’re at the point that to an objective outsider, you probably do everything to be considered Kyungsoo’s girlfriend. You let him cook you dinner almost every day, you fold his shirts when they’re right out of the laundry, you sleep together on matching maroon pillowcases, here in one of the six guest bedrooms in the house. Yet, you still appreciate that he’d offered. Because that word had always felt like it was reserved for someone else, even if you’d never used it.</p><p class="p1">Remedying that thought involves losing yourself in the man you have, to close your eyes and banish it away as you indulge in an exceptionally delicious kiss, mouths sewn together so tightly, his tongue everywhere in your mouth. You stop for only one comment more, lips still close enough to brush his as you whisper, “Anyways, I’m already yours, so why does it matter?”</p><p class="p1">The best part about being in Elyxion is this, being in the one place where you feel like it’s okay to be only his.</p><p class="p1">Especially when he smiles at you so handsomely, and treats you to his tantalizing words, “You’re right, it doesn’t.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’re beginning to wonder why you and the sound engineer are the only two people in the studio when there’s a very boisterous, “Ah, Soo’s girl, you’re here!” from the door.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, Dorado’s boy, I’m here!” you return, your cheeky grin matching Baekhyun’s as you hug him, then Suho. You love when he summons you to hang in the studio for the day, there’s something comforting about the hazy darkness he likes to work in and the fluorescent purple lights that illuminate the room at all times.</p><p class="p1">“What’s on the agenda today?” you ask, once they seem to be settled in. “Are you finalizing the live performance’s styling?”</p><p class="p1">He nods in excitement as Suho starts to rummage through his bags, pulling out some fabric to hand over to the singer while clarifying to you, “We’ve got the pieces in already, just need you to take a look before he decides.”</p><p class="p1">On the list of things you thought you’d be privileged enough to experience in this lifetime, being pop legend Baekhyun’s personal tailor was not one of them. Though it’s not your official title, and you’re not actually employed as a member of his staff, you’d been <em>(begrudgingly, yet willingly) </em>roped onto his team when Kyungsoo waxed poetic about your skills. You’d gritted your teeth and moved past the implications of sewing again, choosing to erase the memory of what you’d made last by detailing all sorts of sensuous clothes and accessories for his upcoming new music video and album. It also helped, and you’d never admit this out loud, that he’d paid you a truly ludicrous amount of money to goad you into doing so. That way, it feels more like a job and less like you’re betraying that long-held rule your heart had once set.</p><p class="p1">If you thought the leather harness you’d embossed for the album cover in a stark, golden geometric pattern was already racy, the tank top-choker-crop top combination he’s putting on has easily overtaken that. You fish in your purse for the makeshift travel sewing kit Kyungsoo had put together for you, and get up with a groan, “Baekhyun Byun, can this even be classified as a shirt? What’s the new song called again?”</p><p class="p1">His tongue darts out of his mouth to hang past his lips in a very lascivious manner, and then he drawls, “Ridin’ Me.”</p><p class="p1">You haven’t heard it yet, but if the name implies the tone of what you’re expecting, thank god you’d left home before it came out. You couldn’t have listened to that one with your friends without a care, especially because he likes to refer to this album as <em>‘twelve pure tracks of baby making music’</em>.</p><p class="p1">You close your eyes to think of how you’re going to design this like you did the harness, picturing a shade of lustful crimson that will really make the area around his neck and chest pop. When you open them to begin pinning, Baekhyun is still smirking at you. You jab a needle in his direction and mutter, “I can’t believe you. What happened to the innocent man that sang songs about cinnamon and mint! I listened to that when I was seventeen and didn’t feel dirty!”</p><p class="p1">“Sex brings the money, baby!” he gibes, rolling his hips back and forth in a mockery of the sexy choreography Kai thinks up for him.</p><p class="p1">You grasp at his shoulder so he can cease his unnecessary movement, and begin to plot out the pattern you’ll make, retorting, “You already have money.”</p><p class="p1">“Never enough,” Baekhyun shoots a look towards his manager that you’re unsure how to decipher, then chooses to use him as a subject change, “So, did we like Suho’s boyfriend?”</p><p class="p1">The older man doesn’t even look up from his phone, only griping, “I’m literally right here.”</p><p class="p1">“We liked, Suho, don’t worry,” you placate him, but can’t resist the jab, “I’ll forgive his biased taste in baseball teams.”</p><p class="p1">“Just because you grew up privileged doesn’t mean we did!”</p><p class="p1">You know Suho well enough that that was probably a joke, but you freeze nevertheless, pin in your hand nearly careening right into Baekhyun’s pristine clavicle. "Sorry?"</p><p class="p1">It has been six months of light teasing, nothing more, about where you grew up, <em>how</em> you grew up. But you can’t deny you’ve always held a drop of fear that one day they’d turn on you. How many stories of turmoil have you heard over the years, of those in Elyxion fighting for a decent living, of their struggle to regain equal footing in the nation. You’d seen it first hand, after that crippling winter snowstorm long ago, and felt that brewed sympathy so keenly when anti-Elyxion sentiment had risen after you’d returned from your ordeal. The people back home had no problem being incredibly callous when it came to this other region, you can’t honestly believe you’ve been here for this long and are still unscathed. This is probably it.</p><p class="p1">But Suho doesn’t berate you for living a life of parties and fancy gowns, he only grins and jokes, “Having Taeil Moon as your starting pitcher all those years? Privileged.”</p><p class="p1">Baseball. He’s only talking about baseball.</p><p class="p1">You let out a sigh, your forehead leaning to rest against Baekhyun’s shoulder in a moment of reprieve. Kyungsoo’s voice bursts through the door, “Sorry I’m late — whoa, should I shield my eyes? Be jealous? Both?”</p><p class="p1">You can’t help the laughter that bubbles from your lips at the ridiculousness of your positioning. It explodes out of you when you catch a glimpse of Kyungsoo’s amused face coupled with Baekhyun’s brag, “Yeah, you better prepare yourself for the day I steal your girl. I’m already dating every woman in the nation, what’s one more?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo rolls his eyes but can’t keep the grin away either. “You’re insufferable.”</p><p class="p1">“I have something for you, Soo,” Baekhyun says after he’s taken off the shirt for you to work on.</p><p class="p1">As you settle down with your needle and thread, he saunters over to his backpack sans a top, egregiously cocky, and pulls out a stack of papers to hand over to the other man. Kyungsoo takes them, but doesn’t bother to read what’s printed on them, only giving an immediate grumble, “I don’t even have to look to know what that is. I’m not singing a song on your album!”</p><p class="p1">“Come onnnnn,” Baekhyun whines, drawing out the on for as long as he can. “We’ve been talking about doing this since college.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, when we were in an acapella group together, not when you were worldwide famous!” Kyungsoo objects by trying to return the papers, but Baekhyun won’t let him, earning him a groan of frustration. “You’ve released three albums, I’ve said no three times!”</p><p class="p1">“Didn’t you sing to y/n on your first date? Maybe singing to her now will finally get her to cave on that girlfriend thing.”</p><p class="p1">You and Kyungsoo both go as red as the thread you’re sewing into Baekhyun’s costume. That night had been a fantastical dream and a dreadful nightmare all wrapped up into one; you still can’t believe he’d been confident enough to supplant a singer at a Michelin Star restaurant just to please you.</p><p class="p1">“Byun,” Suho hisses out of the blue, trying to be surreptitious in his call. “Byun.”</p><p class="p1">All three of you glance to the door, where the manager is standing by a woman you’ve never seen before, who’s tiny and cowering as she stares into the studio. The playful mood is dissipated, you already know that what’s about to go on here deserves respect.</p><p class="p1">Suho gives her an encouraging nod, and she meekly begins, “Mr. Byun, I’m so sorry to disturb you, are you in the middle of recording?”</p><p class="p1">“Please, call me Baekhyun.” He’s instantly transformed from his swaggering bravado of a persona to the fluffy, puppy boy that lies underneath. He goes over, puts a hand on her shoulder, and greets her ever so politely, “It’s no problem, ma’am.”</p><p class="p1">“My name’s Nicole,” she introduces herself, relaxing a bit when she sees that he’s not upset. “I work in the downstairs cafe as a barista. I heard from my friend that I…” she glances around, perhaps in trepidation of being overheard, then dips her voice into a whisper, “that I could come see you.”</p><p class="p1">“Of course, I’m glad that you did,” he offers, as he goes out of his way to give her a hug.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun is legendary for his voice, but he really should be known for his philanthropy. You were totally surprised the first time he was approached in his studio by one of the men who cleaned the floor, on a late, late night when it was just the two of you. You’d nearly screamed in surprise at the knock on the door, thinking no one else was still in the building. But the singer had jumped right into action, halting his song recording without a moment’s hesitation to take off with the stranger.</p><p class="p1">You’ve seen countless times now, workers and other random strangers coming to the studio or stopping by the gate of the lake house for his assistance. You’d found out from Kai that these were people that could no longer afford living here — the capital being Elyxion’s most expensive area to live in — or that were otherwise having struggles with maintaining a basic way of living because of their income level, unemployment, or other personal matters. Though you haven’t learned all of the details exactly, you know what’s most important, that Baekhyun has enough connections nationwide that allow him to help these individuals find more manageable lives elsewhere.</p><p class="p1">In several instances, the people Baekhyun assisted came only with the clothes on their back. He’d recruited you into helping craft a sets of garments they could take with them, simple pants and shirts, dresses for baby girls and cute pocket tees for boys, all in muted, non-attention drawing tones. You do have pride in yourself for making at least a small difference in these people’s lives, it reminds you of how Michael bought you a wardrobe full of clothes without asking during that first week.</p><p class="p1">You catch Suho’s eye with care that Nicole doesn’t pick up and mouth the routine question, <em>Does she need me?</em> </p><p class="p1">He nods in recognition, then turns to ask softly, “Ma’am, are you in need of personal effects, like clothes?”</p><p class="p1">“No, no, I’ve been bringing a bag to work.” She is gracious with her denial, holding up a stuffed duffel to show, which will only expedite her escape.</p><p class="p1">With recording on pause for today, Baekhyun quickly re-packs his backpack as Suho continue to chat with Nicole in the hallway. He picks up the papers Kyungsoo discarded during the conversation and plops them right back on his lap, instructing, “Soo, you sing this first. When I get back, I’ll see if we can fit it together. Gotta go!”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not doing it!” Kyungsoo hollers as Baekhyun coyly tiptoes out of the room in the name of social justice, with a very sarcastic wave behind his back.</p><p class="p1">“I’m so proud that he continues to do so much good,” you murmur, watching Baekhyun’s retreating back through the window. It would’ve been too easy for him to lose his honorable roots, but it’s clear he’s stayed morally upright through his rise to fame. “Where does he go with them again?”</p><p class="p1">“I think Oasis, but I’m not exactly sure where,” Kyungsoo divulges. “All I know is that he takes them to a drop off point and a woman comes to pick them up. He’s not able to do much more than that, because of who he is, you know. Think of the Toyota.”</p><p class="p1">Right. Being at the level of fame he’s at, he’s taken on a bunch of extra risk trying to do this underground work, hence the shoddy clothes, the old-time car, all placed within his life to be as surreptitious as possible. You make a mental note to ask if you can come along and be of a greater help next time because of your relative anonymity in this region. You don’t think much of what you’re doing when you sink back against the cushion-y couch and pick up Baekhyun’s shirt to get back to sewing. But Kyungsoo looks at you in confusion and asks, “What’s going on?”</p><p class="p1">You shrug. “May as well get comfortable. He’s usually gone for a few hours.”</p><p class="p1">“Shouldn’t we go home?”</p><p class="p1">“You have something to do, if I recall.” you shoot a pointed look to the papers still in his hand.</p><p class="p1">“I’m not singing on his baby making album!” Kyungsoo blusters, shaking the printed document in his fist like it’s cursed with lewdness. “His new single is called Ridin’ Me!”</p><p class="p1">You gesture to yourself in an over the top way, raising a salacious eyebrow and preening, “Don’t have to look far for inspiration, then!”</p><p class="p1">He is cocky just like his friends ninety six percent of the time. The accompanying three percentage points of him are composed of the steadfastly serious Kyungsoo. And the final one percent is the Kyungsoo who can’t even look you in the eyes right now, while wearing his painted on blush. He’d been the one to flirt with you first, he’d played himself then if he’s still so affected by you, even now. He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “You are the worst.”</p><p class="p1">It’s totally selfish, you want to hear whatever suggestive R&amp;B that awaits dripping from his pretty mouth in a manner that you’re sure will rile you up. So, you wield your coup de grace and let it fly, “It’s too bad you don’t want to sing. I think little man would’ve loved to hear it.”</p><p class="p1">You totally mean it as manipulation, the delicate tone, the wistful sheen that crosses your eyes, the specific mention of the boy who’d been settled to sleep by his angelic voice. Kyungsoo knows just how precisely Jeno had been soothed by those melodies he’d crooned during your time in the Pandora Building. Even though the man across from you had only known the teen for a week, he’s already fissuring in submission.</p><p class="p1">“You really are the worst,” Kyungsoo murmurs, not mad at all. He turns to tap on the glass, where the sound engineer is mixing a few beats, and calls through the glass once he’s read the title, “Can you play this? Moonlight?”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You’re preparing to hit by a devastating synth of drummed notes and hi hat tings, an electronic pulse overlaid across it all, but are enveloped instead by a simple piano tune. </span>
  <span class="s2">The haunting melody grips your heart as you experience it for the first time. The stunning combination of it all — the beat, the piano, the lyrics, the shimmer that pulses in the background — sends a thrilling chill up your spine. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Have you lost your way again? </em>
  <span class="s3">Baekhyun’s strong voice on the demo version echoes out through the speaker in the lounge area. </span>
  <em>The night air is still cold, get up. So, baby, hold on, I can’t leave you alone. From a distance, I follow you.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“This is definitely not baby making music,” you breathe out, perhaps a bit stupidly.</p><p class="p1">“No,” Kyungsoo hums, entranced now by the words on the paper. “It’s not.”</p><p class="p1">And then he’s singing, deep timbre of his voice ringing out clearly into the room, harmonizing in utter perfection with his best friend’s rich tones, <em>You’re showered by a shower of starlight, I’ve never seen such an entrancing expression. I see you still like a picture, at the end of my gaze.</em></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s4">
    <em>A place that cannot be touched, a place that cannot be held, the reflection on the surface is not her. It’s my sad story that cannot be fulfilled. The closer I get, the stronger the pain will get. </em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2">The goosebumps prick against the back of your neck, the unbelievable sensation melding itself with the notes leaving his mouth. Kyungsoo’s singing melds easily with Baekhyun’s recording, like two rushing rivers meeting at the sea, the layered duality of their voices upon the complexity of the lyrics blowing you away. This isn’t a happy song, the words that are flowing out are not ones that paint a happily ever after. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">You’ve seen the brilliant moon thousands of times, lofted high in the sky in its place of pride, through the trees covering your house in Tactix, out of the tent you’d go camping with Mark and Jeno in, from the back dock of Baekhyun’s mansion. But this song is only about one particular moon, the particular, dismal moonlight that had crawled through the window wall of your home when you’d found that discarded picture frame on your stairwell. The particular way you had only the strains of that moon to comfort you in your sorrow. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>A place that cannot be touched, a place we cannot be together. My sad story.</em>
</p><p class="p1">You have to put down your sewing, to not run yourself clean through with the needle in your distraction. While you do so, you discover that Kyungsoo’s cheeks are now covered in a glossy sheen, his tentative hand coming to his face. His shocked chuckle detonates in the room, even over the recording of Baekhyun that’s still playing, “Why am I tearing up?” Your hand flies to do the same, and you find that a rivulet of dew has careened down your cheek. He sniffs, and his voice crackles with hefty emotion when he asks, “Was it just me, or did that song remind you of home for some reason?”</p><p class="p1">You close your eyes to nod in instantaneous response. You just know exactly what he means without him explaining, the moon would come through your window so perfectly in the twilight. If it hadn’t been raining that night, if the clouds had cleared when he held you in your bed, the pair of you would’ve been bound together not by the shine of his porch light but by only the bewitching ribbons of glistening moon. Maybe that would’ve changed what followed.</p><p class="p1">“I might have to sing this,” Kyungsoo muses, dreamy look on his face. You wonder what he’s thinking about, if he’s even an iota clued into your treacherous thoughts, thoughts you’ve tried so hard to eradicate. You’re wondering if he’s thinking of that woman in return, the woman he hasn’t mentioned again after the night at Sun &amp; Moon. The only way you can feel like a semi-decent person is if you have the confirmation he’s swept up in another, too.</p><p class="p1">Maybe this song will finally be the thing to banish those thoughts for you. It couldn’t hurt to try. So you are selfish, and selfish only in your response, “I think you might.”</p><p class="p1">He stays until Baekhyun returns, and they record it together in one take.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’re adding a pair of blue ceramic mugs into your basket at the farmer’s market when a lush display of ripe fruit catches your eye. You haphazardly wave in the direction of your companion across the way, calling, “Do you want blueberries?”</p><p class="p1">There’s no response from Kyungsoo, even after you repeat your query, so you finally give up on your laziness and turn to actually address him. But he’s nowhere near your proximity, back turned to you by the booth selling honey cakes, feet seemingly cemented into the ground with the way he’s not moving. You can’t tell what he’s gaping at, the space in front of him a mess of the crowd plus vendors, you can only tell that he’s still unmoving.</p><p class="p1">You’ve got the question halfway out in a shout, <em>do you want the honey cakes too?</em>, when he takes off. You don’t have the instinct to chase after him, you can only stare, dumb and with a basket in hand, as he travels a few feet and then is engulfed into an embrace. That is when you’re compelled into motion, tiptoeing as close as possible to this reunion as you can without giving yourself away, hiding behind the display of pineapples.</p><p class="p1">He’s conversing amiably with an older couple — the man is tall, with shoulder length salt and pepper grey hair, and the woman, who must be his wife, is a youthful presentation of graceful aging, dressed head to toe in pastel yellow. You’ve never seen them before, not in any of your friends’ pictures, nor in any of Kyungsoo’s. He’s not the kind of person to be this overly affectionate with a stranger, even with his own acquaintances.</p><p class="p1">The woman is holding onto his shoulder and speaking so comfortably, “We knew you came to Elyxion but had no idea you moved here."</p><p class="p1">His hand comes to rest on her arm in return as he explains, “I haven’t permanently moved, I’ve been staying with Baekhyun for some time. He has a summer home here, remember? For when he gets sick of the penthouse?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, with the balcony doors that open right onto the lake.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s the one. It’s been like six months or so.”</p><p class="p1">“Tired of being in Pandora?” How does this couple know exactly what Baekhyun’s lake house looks like, moreover, how do they know where Kyungsoo had previously lived?</p><p class="p1">“The Vice Premier’s son invited me home at the beginning of the year,” Kyungsoo gives the information away freely to this man, strange to you but not to him. “Being there didn’t feel right anymore, so I figured why not come here? It’s the next closest thing. Why are you here and not Oasis?”</p><p class="p1">The wife glances up at her husband, and you catch the way the teardrop crystallizes in her eyelid. You can hear her sniffle once but she is able to hold it together and softly say, “We came home for her birthday and we just… couldn’t stay. We found a small apartment downtown and we… we just moved. We wanted to tell you, but weren’t sure how you would feel. Sorry you had to find out this way.”</p><p class="p1"><em>Her</em> is too vague a term to give you any sort of context as to who they’re speaking about. But it does Kyungsoo in, the crack in his voice is audible before he’s able to manage a steady, “No reason to be sorry. I’m pretty sure I won’t go back again.”</p><p class="p1">You’re contemplating whether he means Pandora, Neozone, or both, when the woman reaches up off his shoulder onto the contour of his face, fingers dancing over the space on his eyebrow where the hair is slightly misaligned. Another tear slides down her face as she murmurs, “It’s healed so nicely, Kyungie. I can barely see the scar anymore.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t help it, your own fingers dart to your palm, give it the same severe pinch that confirms your presence in reality. You’re broken apart so easily by the memory of this, waking up to see his bloodied face after your escape attempt. The way you were so compelled, even back then when you didn’t know him, to wipe his face clean for him, wanting his handsome face to remain untouched. The fact that this woman has seen it too, you know she has, is unfathomable to you.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s hand delicately closes around her wrist, holding her hand there against his face, his eyes closing at the feel. “It was all thanks to you and your patience. You know I would’ve scratched it into permanence if you hadn’t stopped me.”</p><p class="p1">The man’s hand takes up the unoccupied space on the right side of Kyungsoo’s face, the couple cradling him as if he’s a child. He asks Kyungsoo a careful query, “And you’re okay?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo nods, brief and impassive. You think the conversation you’re eavesdropping on has navigated out of dangerous territory, until you’re dropped right into a frothing whirlpool of distress when the man next ventures, “What about that young girl?”</p><p class="p1">Your knee gives out. You no longer have the luxury of Yuta there to assist you, so you try to catch yourself on the first thing you see, the crate full of pineapples you’re hiding behind. Your fingers miss the edge of it, sending the wood container flying against the ground, and the ringing clatter exposes you there an in instant.</p><p class="p1">“I’m so, so sorry about that,” you fumble for an apology, already feeling the desperation rising as you duck to pick up the crate, trying to avoid their gazes and simultaneously attempting to keep your basket in hand. You’re a mess, and not even the polite, “Hello,” you give them can mask it.</p><p class="p1">But it’s inevitable, you can’t keep your head tucked into your shoulder without coming off rude. These are people that obviously mean a lot to Kyungsoo, you can’t be rude, you can’t. You’ve been stared at before, by many a person in your life, strangers and acquaintances alike. But you have never felt as crushed by the dense load of relief that rains right from their eyes down upon you.</p><p class="p1">A caring hand laces through yours, and then Kyungsoo clears his throat as he tugs you forward, “Soohyun, Eileen, this is y/n, my girlfriend.”</p><p class="p1">Your shocked, “What?” is completely drowned out by the woman’s pithy, “Oh.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t have a second to react any further. Because the man is looking at you like he knows you, has seen beyond the veneer he’s seen on TV, holds nothing but kindness in him for you as he says,“It’s lovely to finally meet you, honey. Elyxion must be a long way from your home, I hope you feel welcome here.”</p><p class="p1">“I-I do,” is all you can manage to stutter out, taken aback by what’s unfolding here.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo isn’t doing anything but holding your hand and standing there in civil silence, which forces you to bear the brunt of their gentle, yet sorrowful stares. It’s not the same brand of sorrow that people who know who you are tend to wear. It’s much more poignant, as if your personal pain has affected them in some nasty way.</p><p class="p1">Another soft, “Oh,” escapes the woman’s mouth, before she wipes away a tear and asks with care, “May I hug you?”</p><p class="p1">In any other instance you would’ve said no without a strand of hesitation. However, there’s something about the plain grief in this woman’s eyes that you cannot refuse. After the smallest of nods, the woman is very respectful in her approach, not startling you with sudden movement or being egregious with the hold she takes. It might even be you that delves into the embrace a touch too overzealously, her overwhelming motherly presence a sensation you haven’t experienced in a hug in far too long.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you, thank you,” she whispers, her gratitude only for you, “Thank you for saving our Kyungie.”</p><p class="p1">She squeezes you extra tight, endowing you with a dollop of the love she holds for Kyungsoo for some unknowing reason. Her husband does the same, he takes his time to hold you in a cherishing hug. They douse the man beside you with one final cyclone of fondness, and with a pitying wave, they disappear back into the crowd. The couple clearly are not his parents, his reunion with them had not been as implosive as you would’ve predicted, but they are encased within his heart under careful protection.</p><p class="p1">It is not their identities you ask after when you’re alone again. You can’t help the question that actually slips out, “Why did you call me your girlfriend?”</p><p class="p1">“What? Are you mad about that?”</p><p class="p1">“I thought we agreed that that wasn’t something we wanted to do.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s eyes go wide as he takes in your unexpected displeasure and he instantaneously escalates into a tit for tat, “Baek calls you <em>Soo’s girl</em> and you never have a problem with it!”</p><p class="p1">You wanted this to be a casual discussion, to find out why he did what he did. But now that he’s mad, you’re mad, “Because he calls me that as a joke! Kai refers to me as your <em>boy toy</em> for the love of god!”</p><p class="p1">“I can’t have this talk right now,” his voice comes out in gasps as he tries to control himself from exploding into shouts in this public venue. “I’m going to go.”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungsoo, what?” you ask, confused as to how this got so bad so fast.</p><p class="p1">He starts to stalk off but halts a few feet away from you, mouth tight and stern as he orders over his shoulder, “Don’t follow me.” He continues on his brusquely taken path, striding away in full anger, as your body involuntarily obeys the instructions he’d given it.</p><p class="p1">“What the hell just happened?” you mutter to yourself in complete disarray, not believing that you hadn’t made up that fight right now. Seriously, what the hell had just happened?</p><p class="p1">You’re puzzled to the point you can do no more than nervously twitch, keep vague in your interactions with the girl who rings your purchases up. All you wanted to know was why he specifically chose this moment to forgo the boundaries you’d set with each other. That couple only knew you as the girl from TV, it would’ve been nothing lost to them or you for Kyungsoo to introduce you as a friend. Or even simply as a person he knows. But he’d specifically gone with the term <em>girlfriend</em>, a term that had always been off limits.</p><p class="p1">It never was an issue, never, not once. He never seemed to be bothered by your insistence to sticking to the rule until now.</p><p class="p1">When you walk into the house after a blank taxi ride back to the neighborhood, you’re so engrossed in the bizarreness you don’t even realize there are other people in the kitchen. It’s only when you have the groceries halfway unloaded that you hear a voice and jump so high you hit your head on the butter holder, “Where’s Kyungsoo? I thought you guys were out shopping together?”</p><p class="p1">Rubbing at the bump that’s sprouted onto your forehead, you grumble, “We were, but we ran into this older couple and things just took the weirdest turn.”</p><p class="p1">You totally missed Kai and Baekhyun there on the stools by the island. You do not miss the loaded look that passes in between them, nor the lack of surprise that is within the look. Kai closes his eyes to think, then quietly asks, “Did the guy have this elegant, long grey hair, woman looked like she could be in her thirties, wearing yellow?”</p><p class="p1">He’s culled it right out of your mind, no flaws in his imagery. “Yeah, how did you know?”</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t realize they were here,” Baekhyun murmurs, not trying to shut you out but mainly keeping his thoughts in Kai’s vicinity. “I thought they were still in Pandora.”</p><p class="p1">“Who are they?” you ask, You’re already tired of being out of the loop, but you perhaps should’ve waited a bit longer to do so.</p><p class="p1">Because you’re in no way prepared for the despair that dots into Baekhyun’s eye, such a foreign thing to see, as he divulges, “Luna’s parents.”</p><p class="p1">“Luna?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh,” Kai lets out a melancholy sigh. “that fool.”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun keeps his head hung low, usual loud voice held into muteness as he begins, “We’ll tell you what you should know, but this is a conversation that you need to have with him in person.” He takes a long breath, pulled right from the plunging depth of his chest, and then he says, “Luna was Kyungsoo’s fiancée.”</p><p class="p1">You’re glad you still have the shopping bag in your hands, to have the sensation of the rough linen against your palm keeping you from going head-to-toe numb. You’ve imagined her only within the rough outlines of a <em>someone</em>, but now she has a name, a beautiful one. And now you know that they were engaged.</p><p class="p1">“How much have you heard about her?” Kai asks, struggling to keep his voice even.</p><p class="p1">“The bare bones of it,” you hum, thinking of what bits and parts of this tale Kyungsoo has spun for you. “They met at school, she was a, um, a professor, right?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, she got her PhD in Elyxion-Neozone historical relations.” That sounds familiar. Why does that sound familiar?</p><p class="p1">Kai lets out a croak of suffering after that, burying his face right into his hands. Baekhyun puts a caring hand on his arm, and takes over the dutiful reveal, “Luna was killed in the bombing at XM two years ago. That was her lecture hall.”</p><p class="p1">Fuck.</p><p class="p1">The dial of your emotion swings wildly from annoyance to devastation, all your mouth can force out is an awful, “Oh my god.” You have to sit down, you’re not able to remain upright, the toxic slog of familiar grief billows into you in incessant waves.</p><p class="p1">“That was probably the worst month of their lives, first Luna, then Soo, I don’t know how they did it,” Baekhyun is powering ahead, being the pillar of strength for his friend, who’s softly weeping at the story. “The moment he was brought out of the Pandora Building, they came straight to the capital. He stayed with me, you know that, but they were the ones who did all the work. Her mom is a nurse, so she got his face straightened out, and her father paid everything off for him so he wouldn’t have to work.”</p><p class="p1">You’re fairly sure you’re a terrible person. There’s no acceptable way to explain your innate, less-than-polite reaction to meeting the parents of Kyungsoo’s <em>dead fiancée</em> as being anything other than being a terrible person.</p><p class="p1">“They are selfless enough that they feel bad he’s still hung up on her, or at least was,” Baekhyun says as he turns his head, giving himself a moment of privacy to wipe away his tear. “They’d constantly ask him if he was going to start dating again. I think they felt really guilty, that they had each other and he had no one.”</p><p class="p1">It’s not supposed to be like this. Luna’s mother wasn’t supposed to thank you for saving Kyungsoo’s life after her own daughter died. Her father wasn’t supposed to hug you as the phantom apparition of his child’s presence in another woman. They weren’t supposed to be waiting for you to assume the place her ghost still lingers in. You’d thought before that maybe Kyungsoo and his mystery woman were separated by locations or the circumstance of a severed relationship, not between the uncrossable worlds of heaven and earth.</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t know he’s doing this, but Baekhyun only confirms that you’re a terrible person when he laments, “And he never did date, until you. So, it would make sense that he would want to introduce you to them as his girlfriend, when that’s all they ever wanted for him.”</p><p class="p1">You’re so terrible that you actually have the audacity to cry at his words.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’ve gotten the last tail of cheery canary thread snipped off and neatly tied when you hear a soft voice from the door, “I thought you’d go sleep in Baek’s room tonight.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is plainly exhausted, leaned up against the frame of doorway, eyebags evident under the frame of his glasses. You set down your needle to hold out your hand, face folding with relief that he’s made his way home, even though it’s past one in the morning now. You have no idea if he’s prepared to talk now, if the half day he’s spent away from the house has done anything to ameliorate the situation, but this is your olive branch. Your subdued way of telling him you know. It’s up to him to take it.</p><p class="p1">He does, clambering right onto the bed and taking your hand. He hesitates in touching you any further, but you toss care aside to cradle him in your arms, to rest his head on your chest and whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You dip your head to kiss him on the square of cheek visible, and then take care to ask, “Why didn’t you tell me about Luna?”</p><p class="p1">His words come out muffled against the fabric of your sleep shirt, “I did. I told you only the things people should know about her.”</p><p class="p1">“Soo…”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo sits up, and there is a load of <em>I dare you</em> present in his eye as he retorts, “Can you blame me? Can you honestly say if the boy from home died that you would tell the next person you were with the exact details of how it happened?”</p><p class="p1">If you had such a hard time dredging up Jeno’s death time and time again, you don’t even want to attempt wrapping your head around what sort of twisted route your mind would take if said boy were the bloodied one in your arms instead. You’d probably wish to trade places with him before you ever let those details slip through your mouth.</p><p class="p1">“I… no,” you answer. “No, I couldn’t. You don’t have to.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sure they told you the background,” he shrugs, the daring swapped out for detachment as he weighs whether or not to give you said details. “Which is half the struggle, I suppose.”</p><p class="p1">You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to. You already possess enough mutual understanding and context to piece it together yourself, but his beautiful voice starts the tale anyways, </p><p class="p1">“At the start of every spring semester, Pandora U, XK, and XM would host a mock assembly for their respective political science majors. There were speaking panels, some of the Regents would even drop in, it was this whole big thing. I wasn’t going to go that year since I already had a job at my firm lined up, but I got roped into volunteering.” You hadn’t expected only a sorrowful tale, yet it still strikes you when the hint of a grin crosses his lips, “I was a fucking goner from the moment she asked me where the free food was.”</p><p class="p1">You know that feeling, know it well.</p><p class="p1">“A woman of taste,” you breeze, in an effort to keep that gorgeous expression high upon his face.</p><p class="p1">And it works, because he lets out a melodic note of laughter and agrees, “I know.” Even as he continues on, he can’t help the poignant smile, the breathless recollection of a happier time in his life,“I was the trophy boyfriend in our relationship. Luna was the brains and beauty all in one, had her PhD by the time she was twenty six, was a full time professor the next year. We lived in a little apartment in Pandora’s city center, were thinking about adopting a dog. The first time I met her parents, they accidentally found out I was a technical orphan and basically adopted me at that moment. We were counting down the days until we got married.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve experienced dual existences. In a life when you’d been thrown to the wayside, you’d both found foster hearts to meld with your own. The way Luna’s parents had so tenderly held him had been proof enough, that they loved, most likely <em>love</em> him as their own. And you’ve had that violently ripped out from under you, with no prescience at all.</p><p class="p1">He grows quiet, and you know what’s coming next, “I’m sure they told you what happened. And I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you just how awful it was after.”</p><p class="p1">His fingers grasp for purchase against the flimsy fabric of his shorts, the gesture doing nothing to alleviate the tension in his body, the suffering he’s trying to suppress. He is aspirational, as you watch him right now, the way he fights to calm himself down without making a scene. It’s such a contrast to the uncountable number of times you had crippling breakdowns after your tragedy, you wish you could’ve been able to behave more like him. You know every little bit of awful making up what he’s feeling, you’d been caught in that riptide time and time again. You both had only been saved by a harrowingly small breadth of affection.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, Kyungsoo,” you whisper, grabbing his hand with yours and lightly kissing it. “I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p class="p1">His fingers close around yours, and he steels himself to push the story forward, “After they discharged me from the hospital, I stayed at Baekhyun’s apartment in Pandora because I couldn’t handle going back home. Soohyun and Eileen moved in to take care of me since he had to go overseas, every day they changed my dressings, monitored my concussion, forced me to see the counselor. Without them I don’t know what I would’ve done.”</p><p class="p1">You can hazard a guess. If the number of times you’d had horrifically dark thoughts cooped up alone in your room at night was any indication, you’re probably thinking of the same thing.</p><p class="p1">He reveals the truth you’d always been curious about, “The only reason I came back to Neozone with Mark was because I didn’t want to be in the city for our anniversary. And now, we’re here.” He finishes with a sadly wry smile, lifting up your intertwined hands, taking care to kiss across the slope of one of your knuckles. It’s terribly ironic, that something that awful had brought about something like this.</p><p class="p1">You brush back the hair that’s fallen into his eyes and ask, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He’s listened to sob story after sob story from you over the past months. Yet he’d only held himself in rigid detachment when  he had a moment to speak in return.</p><p class="p1">“Who gets kidnapped then says, <em>hey guess what, my fiancee recently died in a bombing!</em> to a fifteen year old?” he deadpans, which for one, tells you he’s being sincere. And also is such a crazy thought, because he hadn’t let a single dribble of his still fresh grief ever come leaking out of him. Maybe once or twice, a shadow of tangibly sad feeling would cross his face, but nothing that would ever clue you into this.</p><p class="p1">“It’s been months now. Every time I talked about J probably made you feel that hurt again,” you lament, feeling the keen stake of suffering you must’ve driven into him again and again.</p><p class="p1">“I-I just,” he stutters, thinking of the way he wants to frame this. “How could I bring something like that up? <em>Especially</em> after what happened with Jeno.”</p><p class="p1">He shouldn’t have held himself back on your account, so many awful things happen all the time. Mark’s mother, Jeno, Kyungsoo’s parents and yours, now Luna. You shake your head at his noble idiocy and gently chide him, “Grief isn’t a competition, Kyungsoo.”</p><p class="p1">“But it <em>was </em>a competition,” he states resolutely, causing your forehead to furrow with your perplexion.Kyungsoo grips your hands, then fixes you with a piercing look, “Who do you think was hurting more back then? Me, who had the support of my in-laws and the blessing of anonymity, or you, who had no one and was forced to re-live that event happening every day?”</p><p class="p1">The stinging brand of that week has been permanently seared into your hippocampus through each day you were paraded and propped up as some farcical icon. And though the semantics of <em>no one</em> could be argued, you had felt marooned in the depths of an edgeless pit throughout the year, with no offered assistance suitable enough to help you out.</p><p class="p1">“Besides, I did tell you some of it,” he smoothly transitions, recognizing you might lose yourself in the repartee of dueling sorrow. “I know we talked about the blossom ceremony.”</p><p class="p1">A question asked in passing, the answer even more nonchalant, <em>I couldn’t care less about it at the time, because she wasn’t from here, she didn’t have a seed.</em> “You were engaged, though?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo's fingers idly rub against each other, like he’s twirling a flower’s stem within them. “Their family is from Oasis. Once things started getting serious she got all sorts of worried that I was going to leave her because of that. But I didn’t care, I loved her too much. We got engaged without a blossom ceremony, that’s why it never meant anything to me.”</p><p class="p1">That’s obvious, they’d shared the kind of true love that didn’t required an outlandish tradition to confirm. It’s a realization that imbues a deep, deep jealousy within you. If only you’d been that lucky.</p><p class="p1">“I still have my seed packet, it’s in my backpack unopened,” he hums, an idle little thing he notes without importance. There’s no reason for that envelope to preoccupy any more space inside his mind. He’s surely convinced that Luna would’ve been the only one to make the cyclamen appear, regardless of her birthplace.</p><p class="p1">He’s unwittingly taken his turn to cultivate the blossom of an idea in your mind, one that promises a moment of healing you both are in desperate need of. You scoop up what you’d been working on, plus your bags strewn by the side of bed, and grab his hand again, tugging him upright, “I want to do something, come on.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a fresh patch of daisies planted right by the front entrance of the lake house. That’s where you bring him along to, goaded on by the strengthening rays of the moon cascading down from the apex of the atmosphere. Dropping down on the concrete front step without preamble, Kyungsoo chuckles in amusement as he eyes you in curiosity, “What is this something you want to do?”</p><p class="p1">“First, this is for you. I’m sorry again.”</p><p class="p1">You hand him the slip of lemon silk, for use as a pocket square or handkerchief, whatever he desires. This isn’t fulfillment of your promise on your first date, that you’d sew him something like you’d done for everyone that you’d cared for at one point in your life. That will come later. You’d spent the dwindling hours of the night waiting, hands compelled to craft the perfect kind of apology. You’re fairly sure you could do no better than this.</p><p class="p1">It’s simple, an homage to the last thing you’d felt so deeply affected by making — just a plain square of banana-hued silk, and in the corner, one tiny, smiling silver moon, the cousin of a smirking strawberry you’d once sewed. For Luna, the physical manifestation of the moonlight he’d sung about.</p><p class="p1">“How did you know she loved yellow?” Kyungsoo breathes out, thumb smoothing over your stitching like he’s picturing her face there instead.</p><p class="p1">“I guessed,” you admit, pressing the fabric right into his hand. “Her mother seemed like the kind of person to wear her daughter’s favorite color.”</p><p class="p1">You let him have a moment to himself, pulling over your bag and retrieving the ceramic mugs that you had unwittingly purchased in the dizziness of your argument at the farmer’s market. Then, you embolden your heart to gather the fortitude to do what you want it to: to dip back into your purse, into the side pocket that’s been zipped this whole time, and retrieve a yellowed envelope.</p><p class="p1">You flip it aimlessly between your fingers, back and forth, the old paper rough against your skin as you murmur, “You can’t make it happen anymore, and I can’t make it happen anymore, so why let these continue to run our lives?” Bending over to the patch of daisies, you carefully scoop up some of the damp, fortifying earth and disperse it over the bottom of the mug. “We can keep them here, protected in the soil where they should rest, and let them be.”</p><p class="p1">He’s silent, the usual cue for you to fully backtrack. But this time, instead of giving up, you exert one last ditch effort in getting him to see where you’re going with this, “I’m not saying at all that this is an actual blossom ceremony, or means any more than whatever you want it to mean. But this will be the end of it for us.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not offering this gesture up as confirmation you’re committing to him in the traditional way that a blossom ceremony entails. This is a different kind of promise you’re making. Kyungsoo doesn’t need visible proof that the cyclamen will never unfurl its petals, he doesn’t need the reminder that he will never dress up in white beside the girl he’d loved for so long. You don’t need visible proof that you’ll never see your flower sprout up from a crystal vase in the midst of finery, you don’t need the reminder that you will never dress up in white beside the boy from your home.</p><p class="p1">But it feels wrong to simply throw the seeds away. They’d meant something to both of you once, they deserve to be concealed from your lives in full respect. If the universe, by some stroke of great luck, twists its fate and makes you the one able to reveal the bloom for the man on the step beside you, then your affectionate patience will have been fully rewarded. You don’t have to explain any of this, because with one look into Kyungsoo’s pretty, pretty obsidian eyes, he just knows.</p><p class="p1">So together, with idle hands intertwined, you press your flower seeds deep into the soil, certain that they will remain forever un-blossomed.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i'm soooooo excited about where the plot goes from here. thank u so much for reading.</p><p>by the way, after a reader's suggestion, i'm going to start including one song i listened to while writing each chapter, and at the end, put them all together in a playlist with some extra songs to cover the earlier chapters! hope this will be fun for you!</p><p>월광 Moonlight (Live) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TW7KPISzF7Y&amp;ab_channel=EXO-Topic</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. camellia japonica</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I wrote a letter for a boy, only once,” you admit, both of you women now breathless, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way before.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>short but sweet one today! enjoy!</p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You and Kai watch in amusement as Suho changes his shirt for the third time, huffing in displeasure as he looks at his reflection in the hallway mirror. You steal a spoon of ice cream out of Kai’s pint and wonder through a full mouth, “What’s got his panties in a twist?”</p><p class="p1">“He’s meeting Sehun’s family for the first time,” Kai divulges under his breath, so he doesn’t attract attention from the flustered man. “Twist does not even start to describe the state of his panties right now.”</p><p class="p1">You stifle a laugh at your friend’s blunt assessment of the situation, though you’re not sure why Suho is freaking out this much, “Wait, really? We haven’t known him that long but Sehun is so… Sehun. Is his family not like that?”</p><p class="p1">Suho takes a particularly ungraceful stumble against the wall as he tries to put on his shoes without sitting down, causing the pair of you to guffaw again, trying to keep your mirth to hushed tones.</p><p class="p1">“Sehun keeps it really hush hush, to the point where Suho doesn’t even really know what he’s walking into. Hence the panties,” Kai explains his crude turn of phrase.“But I did hear from Taemin that his father is some big political hotshot back in their city. Showed up at one of their showcases once. If Baek was here, he’d know.”</p><p class="p1">All the political hotshots you know are soft men at heart, though Kai probably doesn’t know that. “He should stop freaking out, politicians aren’t that scary,” you say it in a pointedly loud voice that you know Suho will overhear.</p><p class="p1">“They are, you just grew up with one,” he responds with a sneer, followed by an eye roll.</p><p class="p1">“The only politician that ever scared me was Premier Kim and that was for like… ten minutes. You’ll be fine,” you muse, thinking of how you’d nearly pissed your pants in fear when he’d confronted you out of the blue. That had been such a contrast to his actual personality, you can’t believe you were ever scared of him. You turn back to Kai to leave Suho be, “What are they doing? Dinner?”</p><p class="p1">“Nope, Sehun wanted to go on a picnic. At least they’ll be outside, so if he needs to vomit he can just do it on the grass.”</p><p class="p1">“Well shouldn’t we go undercover?” you ask with a sly grin, “this could be hella entertaining to watch.”</p><p class="p1">Kai waits for his friend to go rushing out of the house, the slam of the door signifying you’re alone and then he fixes you with a mischievous expression of approval. Neither of you can resist the opportunity for some serious blackmail material you can leverage against the usually stoic older man. Giggling like fools, you raid Baekhyun’s costume room for disguises that will allow you to stroll freely through the nearby park and eavesdrop on the introductions. You grab the first thing you find, a black bob with severe bangs, with a matching pair of dark sunglasses, and run back to the entryway of the house to text Kyungsoo and wait for Kai.</p><p class="p1">You burst into laughter when Kai comes out of the room a few minutes later, huge curly red wig dwarfing most of his face. “Oh my god, are you literally dressed as a clown?”</p><p class="p1">He’s done nothing to look inconspicuous, but refuses to change or do anything but pout that you didn’t like the disguise he picked out. The pair of you bicker back and forth as you leave the house to walk over to the nearby park, across the bridge from the gated community Baekhyun commutes from.</p><p class="p1">“It’s just a red wig! With that wig on you look like Lord Farquaad—,” he whines, voice echoing throughout the mostly empty greenery.</p><p class="p1">“Shhh, what if they hear us!”</p><p class="p1">“There’s no one here, just that man with the really sharp eyebrows!”</p><p class="p1">You look over to where he’s gestured, sure enough, there’s only one man waiting, lounged on the bench with his legs crossed.You think of Sehun’s eyebrows, so prominently placed on his handsome face, and try to see if this man’s features matches his. But all you get is the artificial fringe of the synthetic bangs in your face.</p><p class="p1">Kai can see through his clown getup and voices your internal thought, “I wonder if it’s him, those eyebrows do kind of look like Sehun’s from here.”</p><p class="p1">“God, these bangs I can’t deal with, I can’t see a fucking thing!” you grumble, making a move to take the wig off your head to properly see what’s going on.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t take it off, they’ll catch us!” Kai stops you before you can, his hand slapping over your forehead to keep the wig in place, sending your vision plunged right into darkness.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t see!”</p><p class="p1">You fight to get his hand off you, but it’s no use. He keeps a firm grasp on you, serving as the eyes for both of you, then gasps, “Wait, here they come, here they come! Aaaaaand yep, eyebrows guy is definitely Sehun’s dad. They look like twins. Oh, there’s his mom, and sister I guess, clearly not his girlfriend.”</p><p class="p1">You’re bursting with curiosity to see Sehun’s family, so you heave Kai off you with great effort and propose, “I either take it off or we’re getting closer.”</p><p class="p1">“Fine, there’s a tree right there,” Kai caves, snatching up your hand and starting to run, “let’s go.”</p><p class="p1">Once you’re safe, positioned behind the imposing trunk of the gigantic oak, you take off the wig and shake out your sweaty hair underneath. Satisfied with your now cleared field of view, you peek out from behind the bark to finally catch a glimpse of your friend’s boyfriend’s family. Based on Kai’s comment, you’d expected to see a carbon copy of Sehun, not what you actually see.</p><p class="p1">You make no effort to muffle your voice, the shocked, “Regent Oh?,” is practically screamed. It’s the politician, there’s no doubt it’s him, you could never forget his stately looks, nor his fabled eyebrows. He’d shown up to the Lee mansion that day in a dress shirt and blazer, different from the casual tee and khakis he’s in now, but you’re sure this is the same person.</p><p class="p1">His head darting up at the noise is another confirmation. “Who was that?”</p><p class="p1">From his angle, he can’t see you where you’re hidden behind the tree, but the person next to him absolutely can, “Y/n?”</p><p class="p1">“Seulgi?”</p><p class="p1">You step out from your hiding place, giving yourself away as you affirm that it’s actually the woman you remember. Last you’d seen her, she’d had bangs as bluntly cut as the wig you’re wearing, and was dressed in a copy of her father’s suit.The bangs are gone now, her hair a wavy, light brown instead, and she’s not in a stiff pantsuit, exchanging that for a flowy dress that matches her mother’s.</p><p class="p1">“You know each other?!” Sehun exclaims, looking back and forth between you and his sibling in total surprise. Everyone else is stunned speechless, Suho, both the adults, Kai, plus you. You hadn’t even fathomed that you’d ever cross paths with Regent Oh again.</p><p class="p1">“No, but yes,” Seulgi answers distractedly, taking a similar moment to register your presence. “What are you doing here?”</p><p class="p1">“I moved here over six months ago.” At your answer, you catch the shared look that your two friends toss each other. It’s easily deciphered, <em>what does she mean moved?</em> You and Kyungsoo had continued to insist that your stay in Elyxion was temporary. This is the first divergence from that path you’ve taken, unwilling to explain the reality of your decision to these well-meaning yet unfamiliar people.</p><p class="p1">“Are you serious?” Regent Oh takes over, using much caution in his respectful approach. “I thought they’d never let you step out of Neozone again.”</p><p class="p1">You know exactly what he’s saying, frankly you’re surprised that there hadn’t been a full out military activation the day you’d escaped home. Your tearful phone call with Michael, muffled in the backseat of Baekhyun’s nondescript car, had most likely stopped any sort of Neozone response preemptively. After all, no matter how much they tried, you were still a private citizen first. They couldn’t make you do anything.</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t exactly ask permission to leave, but Michael knows, so don’t worry,” you placate the fears you know the older man holds, the consequences he anticipates if you were to be found here without permission.</p><p class="p1">“I haven’t seen you since…” His pitying tone is no different from the tone everyone else takes. But knowing his political background makes it hurt so much more, knowing the way he was jeered for showing up at Jeno’s funeral, how he and General Zhang were mocked endlessly on Neozone news broadcasts. Mark had even tried to curse at him the first time you’d met. He’d taken it all with respectful understanding.</p><p class="p1">You can’t risk causing any more of a scene than you already have, so you grasp at Kai’s sleeve and bow your head in polite deference, “I’m so sorry for interrupting. We were just trying to be silly with Mr. Kim but we had no idea it was you. We’ll leave you be.”</p><p class="p1">You tug your friend away as fast as you are able to, his long legs struggling to keep up with your haste. It’s not that far of a walk back to the house, but Kai’s completely winded as he asks, “So you know Regent Oh how?”</p><p class="p1">You forgo a response for the pressing question you need answered, “When is Kyungsoo going to be back?”</p><p class="p1">“He texted saying Baek had to bail on recording again, he should be at home when we get there,” Kai explains, eyes full of concern for you. You don’t think you’ve let your panic shine through in this way since you’ve known him. “Are you good? How do you know Sehun’s family?”</p><p class="p1">You know him from that week you’d previously thought was the worst week of your life, before it was supplanted by another. The worry for Michael after his second disappearance. Feeling like you had to prepare Mark for the loss of both his parents, how you could do nothing to shield Jeno from reality that time around. And the overwhelming mollification Regent Oh’s appearance in the mansion had brought.</p><p class="p1">“You said it yourself, I know politicians. And his dad…” your words catch over what you’re trying to say, still moved by the memory. “Did something for my best friend’s once.”</p><p class="p1">As anticipated, Kyungsoo has already returned by the time Kai opens the front door for you, then chooses to give you guys privacy by going back to his place instead of hanging out. Kyungsoo greets you with a soft kiss on the cheek, and you almost feel bad for dropping the bomb on him, “Regent Oh is here.”</p><p class="p1">“Like Oasis’s Regent Oh? Why? Is he in the city to meet with General Zhang or something?”</p><p class="p1">“No. He’s Sehun’s <em>father</em>.”</p><p class="p1">There is the break through his stoic exterior you’d expected, the gaping mouth and the blown apart eyes. “I’m sorry…. what.”</p><p class="p1">You know, you’re not entirely sure you hadn’t made all that up, “Kai and I were trying to clown Junmyeon by spying on him meeting Sehun’s family, but out strolled Regent Oh. How did I never connect their last names?”</p><p class="p1">“Because Regent Oh is notoriously private! I don’t think most people know he even has kids!” Kyungsoo confirms you’re not crazy for not making the association, then goes right into protect mode. “Are you okay though?”</p><p class="p1">“It just.. whew…” you blow out a low breath as you hang onto the countertop, realizing you’re way more affected than you thought.“It just sent me back. The last time I saw him in person was before it all happened. He was always so nice, nothing’s changed.” You pause, remembering Kyungsoo has some degree of political connections, and ask, “Wait. Do you know anything about Seulgi?”</p><p class="p1">His brow furrows in confusion at the unfamiliar name. “Who?”</p><p class="p1">“His daughter.”</p><p class="p1">“You know her too?!”</p><p class="p1">You don’t know her, not really, in fact you have many more questions that you want answered about the young woman. But talking about her means talking about that time, and it’s never been brought up by you since. As Michael’s leg healed, the incident had slipped out of your memory, overtaken by the other struggles you’d been going through.</p><p class="p1">But all that intrigue is roaring back now, as you try to find a good place to start the story, “She went to school with John. Um..” You glance up again at Kyungsoo, who is so patient with his care for you that you really don’t want to give him the background that is sure to hurt him. “I think you know that Michael and Mark went to pay their respects at XM after that happened.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, I was there for the speech.” He can’t conceal his wince, you’ve jabbed him straight through with the memory. If you look back to footage from Michael’s remarks, he must be in the background somewhere, you’d been connected earlier than you’d ever thought.</p><p class="p1">You know that he and Mark are close, but you also know your best friend has for sure never mentioned this, “They were scheduled to come home on the same day, but Mark showed up and Michael did not.”</p><p class="p1">“What?!” Kyungsoo exclaims in a startled voice.</p><p class="p1">“Seulgi found him, beaten up and bloodied, in the middle of the forest by the Neozone border,” you divulge, trying to keep your emotions from clouding the facts. “His car was attacked, his Pandora guards ended up in the hospital, one of them woke up holding a golden Growl Conflict pin they’d torn off whoever did it.She and Regent Oh were the ones who brought him home.”</p><p class="p1">But perhaps you don’t do a good job being objective because Kyungsoo pries, “Wait, do you think they did it?”</p><p class="p1">Regent Oh and the other Regents of Elyxion - along with General Zhang, the head of their military - have denied time and time again that they had any involvement in the suffering inflicted upon your adopted family. It didn’t matter to them the connection their region held to the symbol you’d seen first in the pin, then the belt buckle. Until the results of the investigation came out, and shined the spotlight directly on them, they’d keep repeating their line of defense.</p><p class="p1">“No, no, no. Not at all,” you quickly erase that idea from his mind. “I still don’t understand. It seemed like their people just wanted to hurt Michael, yet Regent Oh and his daughter put themselves on the line to bring him home. They seemed terrified to even step into Neozone that time.”</p><p class="p1">It wouldn’t have made sense for Regent Oh to order an attack on his political counterpart, then go out of his way to return him to you. They’d been surrounded by their own guards, had spoken in only hushed, guarded tones. It was supposed to be no problem for them to be seen in your mansion, for someone of Regent Oh’s political status to cross the border for a visit.</p><p class="p1">But Kyungsoo points out the silliness of your thought, “Do you blame them? We lived in the capital, it wasn’t like Zero Mile where you grew up.”</p><p class="p1">Never mind that you don’t know in any way if Zero Mile is safe for citizens of Elyxion, it doesn’t make sense. “But they’re public figures. Mr. Oh can’t get any higher than Regent without becoming Vice Premier himself.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo has no response for your point, knowing that as a politician, Regent Oh should’ve had free rein to go wherever in Dorado he wanted. Instead he suggests,“Well if they’re going to be here for a bit, why don’t you sit down with them? Finally have that conversation?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. You’re right.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t think about it too much,” he instructs, kissing you softly on the mouth in an effort to calm your whirling mind. “I’m sure it’s just one of those classic Neozone versus Elyxion prejudices.”</p><p class="p1">You have no idea what to believe anymore. You’ve always had an innate feeling that there was more to the story than simply the horrific actions of a few individuals acting on behalf of their region. But you have no proof to back that feeling up.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You don’t have to wait that long to take Kyungsoo’s advice, because a few days later there’s a very cheerful, “Sehun, Seulgi, glad you made it!” from the entryway of the house. The siblings are ushered in by Kai, who immediately assumes the host role and offers them glasses of wine.</p><p class="p1">Suho greets his boyfriend with a kiss, then hugs Seulgi, explaining the absences of the two other men, “Well, we thought Baekhyun would be back by now, but he’s always late. We can just hang until we can get this party started.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo and Baekhyun were supposed to be putting the finishing touches on their duet before the first listen through of his completed album. But they’d left at nine in the morning, and it’s pushing nine at night now, which means someone must’ve come by the studio looking for Baek. You don’t want to ask Suho in front of the newcomers, who aren’t involved with this part of the celebrity’s life, so you sit back and chill out. Kai begins to pick Sehun’s brain about the choreography he made for Ridin’ Me, with Suho dutifully filming their brainstorming session.</p><p class="p1">When Seulgi wanders by to refill her wine glass, you venture, “I’m so sorry again for yesterday, we truly didn’t mean any disrespect.”</p><p class="p1">You haven’t actually had a conversation, thus you’re totally surprised by her airy, amused voice, “Spying on your best friend’s boyfriend is something I’ve always wanted to do.”</p><p class="p1">Your chest experiences quite a paradoxical fill of both warmth and sourness at the idea of Suho being described as your best friend. While he and the other Elyxion boys are not the same group of men you grew up with, they’re as close enough to the real thing you can get, heartwarmingly lovely. Suho bragging about you is something that Mark absolutely would’ve done. But that’s just it. <em>Mark</em> is your best friend, not Suho. Mark, and Yuta, and John, and you miss them so terribly.</p><p class="p1">“How did you end up here?” she asks, bursting with curiosity.</p><p class="p1">“Things happened,” you give her the bland version of the answer, then chuckle when she lifts a disbelieving eyebrow, “which is probably the understatement of the century.” Your fingers smooth out against your own glass as you admit, “Wounds weren’t healing there, and it was just time.”</p><p class="p1">The only blessing of the public nature of your agony is that you don’t have to explain it to anyone. One look at the grief that still dwells in your eyes, and Seulgi already is emotional, “I’m so sorry about your friend’s brother. I’m sure you get condolences everywhere, but I really am. I badly wanted to go to the funeral, but Papa wouldn’t let me.”</p><p class="p1">The idea of that rain of boos coming across her beautiful form is an upsetting one. You shrug, “It wouldn’t have been good for you to go. Your regional identity would’ve put you in harm’s way.”</p><p class="p1">“But still. We’re the same age, if you could brave something far worse than that, so could I.”</p><p class="p1"><em>You already braved it, when you found Michael in the woods. </em>There’s the in you need, the way you can have this conversation. “How did you—,”</p><p class="p1">“Can I ask you about something?” Seulgi blurts out of the blue, before you have a chance to finish your query.</p><p class="p1">“Sure.”</p><p class="p1">She glances over to where the three men are now loudly singing along to one of Baekhyun’s old songs as they film themselves, and lowers her voice, “Not… not here.”</p><p class="p1">Recognizing her apprehension, you gesture for her to follow you out the front door when they aren’t looking. You settle on the comforting front step and she follows your lead, daisies tickling at the slopes of your calves as you sit side by side. She holds herself so stiffly, the action full of effort, and her words mimic that discomfort, “I know we can’t exactly call each other friends, but there are no other girls my age where I live now and I … well.”</p><p class="p1">Your impression of her has been one of effortless poise, which is direct contrast to the way she can’t meet your eye, too wrapped up in her nerves. You put a hand on her shoulder and encourage, “You can ask anything you want. It’s okay.”</p><p class="p1">She sucks in the kind of bereft breath you have experience with, then it comes out, “You knew him well, right?”</p><p class="p1">“Who?”</p><p class="p1">“Yuta.”</p><p class="p1">Your heart congeals at her mention of the ice prince. But it’s not because of whatever he might’ve inspired in the muscle before, no, that has all eroded away. It’s because you remember that party, the exact smile that lazed upon his face as he kissed her, an expression you’d never seen again, not when he was with Seola, not when he was with you.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” you breathe. “Since we were kids.”</p><p class="p1">She reaches into the pocket of her skirt, and pulls out her wallet, then a slip of paper that’s been folded inside. There’s another shaky breath, and she goes, “He’s, um, he’s been writing me these once a week. For the past, uh I guess, several months or so. He sends them to Papa’s office, because he obviously doesn’t know our address.”</p><p class="p1">She carefully passes off the page to you, like it’s the most precious thing she has in her possession, and you take heed to do the same when you unfold it. Then, the crushing wave of nostalgia descends upon you at the sight of Yuta’s blockish and reliable handwriting.<br/><br/></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <b>To Ms. Oh,</b>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <b>I realize it may be bold or presumptuous for me to contact in you in this way, but I must confess, I don’t care. I know you’ve made your feelings quite clear, but I would just like to talk…</b>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">That’s only as far as you get, unwilling to read the rest of what is an incredibly personal letter. You physically close your eyes to block yourself from reading more and ask, “Have you responded?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s impossible for me to,” she admits, in a tiny, tiny voice.</p><p class="p1">Your eyelids shoot open at that, because it’s not like this is the dark ages. It wouldn’t take much effort for her to put pen to paper in response. You notice that there’s no return address listed at the top of the page. That must be why. “I can tell you his address," you suggest, "he’s lived in the same studio since we graduated from school.”</p><p class="p1">“No!” she exclaims, like the idea of writing him back is ludicrous. And her voice craters back to the small, scared version of itself, “His father is a Lt. General for Neozone’s military, do you think he would ever be okay with his son receiving a letter from Oasis? I already have rejected him so many times for that.”</p><p class="p1">You’re literally, a thousand different which ways, stunned at this. “What?”</p><p class="p1">Seulgi is surprised you’re surprised, eyebrows shooting into her hairline as she whispers, “He never told you?!” You shake your head, but the picture is coming into clarity to you now. There was a girl for him, too, a girl he thought he could never be with. She presses a shaky hand into her forehead and she details, “The night we met he asked to spend the night. I wanted to, but I said no because the girls on my floor had already spent the whole party talking about who he was. And of course no one knew who I was, so how could I spring something like that on him, <em>ah, by the way,</em><em> I’m Regent Oh’s daughter, just FYI.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“I had never seen him like that before,” you marvel, as you think of just how caught up Yuta had been in this mystery girl the Neozone girls couldn’t stop slandering. “He was so, so into you.”</p><p class="p1">“I know. He told me the next time he saw me.”</p><p class="p1">“When you came by the mansion with Mark’s father?”</p><p class="p1">You think you have an idea of the timeline of her relationship with your friend, knowing they had crossed paths in her valiant rescue attempt. But her fair cheeks go ruddy even in the dusky light, and her head moves from side to side. “No, when you all visited for those guys’ graduation.”</p><p class="p1">You, Michael, Mark, Jeno, and Yuta took a road trip up to the capital the year that John and Jaehyun had graduated from Pandora U, renting a small villa by the university and partying the whole weekend in their honor. But you had no idea they’d even linked up that weekend, consumed as you were at the time with celebrating another’s accomplishments.</p><p class="p1">She keeps it vague but you’re intuitive enough to read between the lines, “We ran into each other at a bar, and stuff…. happened.” God, you even remember the dingy spot on the corner by John’s old apartment, how they’d hollered in speculation that Yuta had snagged some lady when he didn’t return to the villa that night. “But I was supposed to come home and work with Papa after graduating, how could I even be with him? I shot him down the next morning, and denied him again when he tried the final time at the mansion.”</p><p class="p1">“Seulgi, why…” you breathe out, heart hurting for her and for your friend, ensnared in such a mish-mash of miscommunication and circumstance.</p><p class="p1">“I really regretted it the last time, something about seeing him in his home really hit me,” she gets lost in the thought, obvious in her hurt when she recalls, “then, I saw on his Instagram it looked like he was dating someone else, so why would I bother?”</p><p class="p1">Holy shit, holy shit, Seola wasn’t a crush for Yuta, she was a <em>rebound.</em> You have to make this right, you tell her the reality of it, “They weren’t dating, oh my gosh, Seulgi, they weren’t.” They’d stopped hooking up not because of you but because of <em>her</em>.</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t hear a word from him, and then in February, the first letter came. Bringing the same dread that always followed about his family.”</p><p class="p1">There’s so much to pick apart in that statement. The first is that Seulgi received Yuta’s first letter in February, the exact pinpoint of time you’d tried to cross the threshold past platonic existence and failed. Which means he must’ve sent the letter as soon as he realized he was still hung up on her, and is that engrossed in the pull of her existence that he hasn’t let up on his attempts even with what is now several years of rejection and radio silence.</p><p class="p1">The second is that you haven’t actually been thinking about Lt. General Nakamoto this whole time. You’re thinking of Neozone’s Regent instead, the hard stares he’d send your way when you’d crossed paths, what would’ve happened if he ever found out what happened in your house that night. After that rush of negative sentiment, you finally remember the way Yuta’s father had tried to help when Michael had gone missing.</p><p class="p1">You know him well enough to tell her, “Mr. Nakamoto is not a traditionalist, not at all.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, say he did write me back. What happens next? We keep writing each other forever? I uproot my entire life here for a boy who may or may not like me?” You can tell that there’s depth to the feeling there, that she’s probably spent every day ruminating over the <em>what ifs</em>. That it’s likely she’s spent more than one of those days wishing she wasn’t from the other side of the nation.</p><p class="p1">“Seulgi, he’s written you once a week for the past six months,” you gently remind her. “I’m pretty sure it’s not like anymore.”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s not just <em>like</em>,” you repeat, putting your unspoken intentions right into the word. “I know him, can tell you that for sure.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’d been discreet to the point of reticence about what was going on in his personal life as you tried to slog through the mess of yours. But that journey had only led to the conclusion he was loathe to give up, that he was hung up on someone he couldn’t be with. His absolute reluctance to name her or divulge any further information is proof that the feelings run just as deep for him.</p><p class="p1">“But like, we don’t even know each other,” she whispers, taking back the letter so she can grip it like a lifesaver. “These are the most we’ve talked, and they’re all him.” She gets this misty sheen over her eyes, like she’s the main protagonist in a fantastic, romantic film, and she sighs, infatuated, “He never pressures me, never makes me feel bad about rejecting him. All he does is tell me the boring details of what happens during his week. I just find it so… beautiful, in a way. Like he really loves where he’s from and his life. I’d never ask him to leave it for me.”</p><p class="p1">“How do you feel about this?” you probe, trying to figure out what to do and what to say, affected yourself by this kind of particular, whimsical gesture.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know. How am I supposed to feel?”</p><p class="p1">You’re unsure how to answer that. You don’t know any of the intimate background behind their relationship, haven’t been privy to any of their in person conversations or secretive nights together. But you’d been in Yuta’s position once. You hadn’t written any more than one letter, and hadn’t actually sent it to <em>him</em>, instead to a friend on his behalf. But the same compulsion had overtaken both you and your former bodyguard, had forced your ink to scrawl over a page even as you broke apart with emotion. Your reward — the unadulterated affection that had stitched into that culminating night, however short it may have been — you have to admit, made the effort perilously worthwhile. You can only hope that Yuta’s compensation also has the boon of longevity.</p><p class="p1">“I wrote a letter for a boy, only once,” you admit, both of you women now breathless, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way before.”</p><p class="p1">Because Seulgi is so unlike any female friend you’ve ever had, she doesn’t explode in reactionary titters, doesn’t run to gossip. She doesn’t do anything but sit there and nod, washed in understanding she didn’t predict she was going to get from you. Because Yuta still holds such a cherished piece of your heart, and you feel like a part of that resides in her, you offer, “How about this, I will call him for you.”</p><p class="p1">The first spiral of something other than dejection makes its way onto her face. An elegant blush cascades over her cheeks as she nods and agrees, “Okay.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve had his number memorized for so long, but you don’t want to risk misdialing in an event as important as this. So, you slip back inside to grab your bag and contemplate the weight of what you’re about to do. It’s dramatic, really, that turning your old phone back on makes you feel like this, but it’s too much of a connection to the days of the past to ignore. Just the sight of your screensaver, the scanned picture of you, Mark, and Jeno, together on his first day of high school, is almost enough to get you to give up.</p><p class="p1">But through the flood of incoming notifications, pinging texts, missed calls you clearly see from John and Yuta alike, plus the shake of your hands, you feel the harsh desire to bridge that gap for Seulgi. To prevent her from experiencing any more of this pain. You go right to your favorites, his number the second from the top, and you press the call.</p><p class="p1">Your heart races as the dial tone goes and goes, and you let out a hefty breath when you hear the automated connection of his voicemail inbox. That gives you enough of a respite to collect yourself and softly speak, “Hi Yu, it’s me. I know it’s been far too long since I’ve called, and I am sorry for that. Remember when you told me there was a girl you were hung up on? I’m here with her now. She wants you to know that she’s gotten all your letters.”</p><p class="p1">Seulgi’s cheeks go completely wine hued. You’re going to continue on in your message with a bit more cheerful teasing when you hear the exclamation, “Soo’s girl! Who are you on the phone with?”</p><p class="p1">You remove the device from your ear so you can look, and you see Baekhyun and Kyungsoo coming up the driveway together. From beside you, you catch Seulgi’s dumbfounded, “Oh my god.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, it’s Baekhyun,” you say as you hang up before you can finish your message, putting your phone back in your bag to wave to the man. Even though she’s a politician’s daughter, she probably isn’t immune to the allure of his celebrity. “I thought you knew this was going to be his listening party.”</p><p class="p1">But Baekhyun doesn’t wave back, his feet cement to the ground as his loud mouth falls into first silence, then shocked recognition, “How are you here?”</p><p class="p1">“Sehun’s my brother!” Seulgi exclaims as she bolts upright, pointing over to the man in disbelief, “It’s been you this whole time? I thought your voice seemed familiar, but you always covered your face!”</p><p class="p1">You and Kyungsoo exchange befuddled looks, really unsure of what the two are discussing, considering they’ve never met before tonight. But that’s not right, they clearly have come into contact at some point without realizing it. However, they’re not explaining, they’re only continuing to stare at each other and contemplate the unwitting reveal. The tense moment is punctuated by the buzzing you feel from the inside of your bag, and you hold out a hand to stop them, “Wait, I can feel my phone. It might be him.” You reach, fumbling for the feel of the metal device, then pluck it out of the depths of your bag to hand over to Seulgi.</p><p class="p1">But you haven’t pulled out an old iPhone, it’s a Nokia.</p><p class="p1">“Oh fuck, sorry. That’s the wrong phone,” you curse, trying to slip it away to retrieve the right phone before it stops ringing. The motion stops when Baekhyun runs over and yanks the electronic from your grasp. “What the hell!”</p><p class="p1">“W-where did you get this?” he stutters, hands shaky as he cradles the device, Seulgi’s fingers fluttering in the same manner as she reaches out to touch it. You glance at Kyungsoo again, and he is still gobsmacked watching this unfold.</p><p class="p1">“Michael— the Vice Premier,” you have no choice but the truth, “I’ve had it since I got to Neozone. There’s one number on it, a woman who’s only ever answered once.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s how she knew,” Seulgi murmurs as she takes the phone, nodding in tacit understanding. Her quiet words are nearly drowned out when Baekhyun opens the door and hollers inside, “Get out here, we have to go <em>now</em>!”</p><p class="p1">She forcefully shoves the singer away from the door with a harsh, “We can’t take them there!”</p><p class="p1">He shoves her out of the way to hustle the boys along, and you’ve never seen Baekhyun this aggressive before, “We have to!”</p><p class="p1">“What is going on!” you burst out, overwhelmed to the point of crazed frustration by the lack of answers you’re getting.</p><p class="p1">They can’t be discussing you like this, it’s too much like you’re being watched again by every soldier and official in Neozone. Being told what to do, jostled to and fro, you can’t handle it at all. Kyungsoo breaks out of his spell to run to your side, to grasp your hand and be there for you in support. When he shoots them both a harsh glare, eyebrows set sternly in the middle of his face, Baekhyun and Seulgi shared a very dicey look of their own. Then, they cave at the same time, each reaching into their own bags to pull out two more matching Nokia phones. Your heartbeat escalates into a looming frenzy, you’re glad you’re holding onto Kyungsoo as some kind of support mechanism.</p><p class="p1">“You know that I take people to a rendezvous point so they can get help,” Baekhyun mumbles, nerves shining through with the way his voice can’t get loud. He looks to Seulgi, stuttering, “a-and she…”</p><p class="p1">“I’m the one who picks them up,” Seulgi finishes for him. She looks to the men that are hovering in the doorway, then to you with Kyungsoo’s hand in yours, and quietly says, “There’s something you have to know. But I am not the one who can explain it to you.”</p><p class="p1">That, beyond the frenzied discussion, is what sends you careening back into that fresh pit of fear, a sensation you haven’t experienced in some time. These kinds of discussions always end in disaster for you, no matter which way they try to spin it. This compounds when Baekhyun pulls out a set of silk eye masks from the glove compartment in his Toyota. The other men have no qualms with it, they willingly blind themselves and go to sit in the vehicle, but you cannot help the hitch of your breath.</p><p class="p1">“You have to put this on,” he gently instructs. You involuntarily blanch with horror, squeezing the life out of Kyungsoo’s hand, again recalling the last time you’d woken up in the darkness. “Until you talk to her, you cannot know where we are going. No one does, it’s her rule. You just have to trust me.”</p><p class="p1">You’re bursting to ask <em>Who is her?, </em>needing way more information before you feel comfortable enough going along with them. But you inherently trust the two men you’re with, Baekhyun, who’d rescued you from Neozone, and Kyungsoo, your steady companion. So you stay quiet and allow him to slip the cool silk over your eyes, plunging you right into darkness. Kyungsoo helps you into the backseat, and when his hand is firmly settled upon your thigh in comfort, you’re off.</p><p class="p1">Not a single word is spoken in the time you’re driving. You don’t hear the same dregs of hyperventilation from the lungs of the other men. Why do they feel so okay with what’s going on? This is a grave situation, not quite like the sensation of walking to your doom, but stumbling into an impossible event that you don’t know how to comprehend. You’d been unconscious on the train ride to Pandora and the train ride back. You’re almost wanting that same sedation now, so that you can’t feel the car going up and down the rolling hills of the region, so you can’t wonder where they’re taking you.</p><p class="p1">Of course that phone was an important relic to hold on to, hence why you’d included it with the things you’d brought from Neozone. But never in your wildest thoughts would you have dreamt up it causing Baekhyun and Seulgi to react in that way, nor that they would’ve also been in possession of devices of their own.Never did you think you would get confirmation that that desperate call you’d made in your effort to find Michael would’ve actually done something. You hadn’t even gotten more than a <em>hello </em>from the woman on the other end.</p><p class="p1">You’re unsure how long you drive, maybe an hour, maybe an entire day, but eventually, the car comes to a halt, wheels crunching against a gravel pathway. There’s no verbal confirmation from anyone that you can do so, but you whip your blindfold off the second your body ceases motion. If that gets you in trouble later, so be it. You take a second, eyes adjusting from the artificial to the natural darkness. Your view out the window is partially blocked by Kai’s big head, but the snippet you do see is absolutely unmistakable.</p><p class="p1">In the middle of the elevated, grassy clearing, shaded by the protective branches of the tall, oak tree forest, is a tiny brown house. A tiny brown house with a curtain of white camellias, orange zinnias, and sapphire bluebells blossoming prettily on its side. The only difference between the image you see now and the last instance of a memory you have is the flag draped across the windows in the front, navy blue with the ivory Elyxion tree insignia embroidered proudly in the center, encased in a pentagon.</p><p class="p1">A flag that you’d sewn, thinking it was a quilt.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” you gasp. “Oh my god.”</p><p class="p1">But no one hears your startled sound because Regent Oh is leaning in through the opened front window, talking to his daughter, “You’re here already? I thought you were going to stay in the capital for the weekend— Sehun? What are you doing here?”</p><p class="p1">HIs words spur you into motion, you reach over Kyungsoo’s lap to open the door and leap over him and out of the back seat. To the symphony of their startled exclamations, you run on the dirt path around the car to get a clear view of the structure. You don’t need visual confirmation, because the air shouldn’t feel like this, it shouldn’t feel like it always has, cool and comforting.</p><p class="p1">Two men startle into action by the wood fence, hands flying to the guns at their waists at your sudden movement. “Y/n. Y/n!” Baekhyun shouts, iron grasp pulling you out of range from any harm.“Listen, you can’t go in there without approval.”</p><p class="p1">“Get off me!” you cry, turning and trying to run even while being held by him. “Get off!”</p><p class="p1">“I get it, you know the Vice Premier, you think you know what’s going on, but this—,”</p><p class="p1">You whirl around to him with a level of derangement you haven’t possessed in a long time, the revelation coming out in a guttural snarl, “This is my <em>house</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Every single person in your vicinity freezes. There’s a gross exchange of looks, hovering between disbelief and concern that you’ve made this up in your descent to madness, especially when they notice you’re panting, chest absolutely shredding with the force it took to get that out. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Sehun mouthing to his father, <em>isn’t she from Zero Mile?</em> while Kai and Suho bicker back and forth about what they’re seeing. Kyungsoo is the worst offender of them all, whites of his eyes so cavernous they’re practically the moon hung in his face.</p><p class="p1">It is Regent Oh, blessed Regent Oh, that carves you up with his choke, “Oh my god, you’re theirs. You’re her.”</p><p class="p1">No. No, no, no.</p><p class="p1">Repugnance explodes into your chest when his eyes soften and his words melt out, “They’re inside.”</p><p class="p1">Then, guns be damned, you’re running again without a moment’s notice, leaping over the wood fence you’d helped your father build, setting a punishing pace for your sprint up the sloping hill. It can’t be, it can’t be, he has to be wrong, there’s no way he’s right, there’s no way you’re <em>here</em>, that they’ve brought you here without realizing what this place is to you.</p><p class="p1">There’s guards at the front door too, but they must’ve been waved off via walkie talkie because they take no threatening step towards you. Nor do the handful of stragglers who are inside the home when you blast open the door, huddled up on the furniture that has not changed, not moved one inch. They only look at you like you’re another stranger in this house, when you were the one who had been here first. None of the people you see now are the people you’ve been keening to catch a glimpse of for all this time, but it’s only a matter of time now. This place is still minuscule, the guest room door is open and the inside is empty, so there are only two other places they could be - the bedrooms at the top of the second floor loft.</p><p class="p1">Because you know said people, you know exactly what room it’s going to be. Your feet mindlessly carry you up that familiar flight of stairs, yet you take a right at the landing instead of the left you usually take every time. It’s comically simple, the ten steps you travel forward, and your hand on the doorknob of the master bedroom, knowing they would never, <em>ever</em> allow your old room to be used in this way. There’s a blustering conversation going on inside, but there’s no sense to stall your actions to give them a moment to react. You swing the door open with no hesitation.</p><p class="p1">And there, at the head of the room, are your parents.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>OHOHOHOHOHOHO I TOLD YOU WE'D BE GETTING INTO IT NOW!!!!!! Cliffhanger but you won't have to wait long for the follow up hehehe</p><p>Drawing Our Moments - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Ji9KvO0CME&amp;ab_channel=TAEYEON-Topic</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. nassella pulchra</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You point a finger in your mother's direction, “I shouldn’t have run. I want answers. I don’t care if you have to give them to me in front of everyone.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'll never use short but sweet as a disclaimer again LMAO please enjoy</p><p>since i have a very clear picture of what the ~world of dorado~ i created looks like in my head, and that may not come across through text, i drew a very crude comic sans map that you can access here: ibb.co/S5VfGDD (it's not spam, it just opens my art).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It’s a simultaneous, slow motion raise of everyone’s gaze to see who’s intruded on the private meeting in session. But amongst all the unfamiliar faces, all you see are the two faces reflected in your own, the expressions of ghastly surprise they’re wearing.</p><p class="p1">“Get out,” you bite, though you have no authority to do so. “Everybody get out right now.”</p><p class="p1">The others look to the couple for permission to go, who are stuck in silence as they stare. There is no response given, but the room’s occupants possess enough tact to quickly and quietly exit the room, to not send such blatant double takes in your direction as they go. Finally, when it’s just you and them left, you hear the strains of your father’s rich voice for the first time, see his desperate little grasp at your mother’s arm, “Honey, is that. Is that my sweet little pea?”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes flutter closed as a pained exhale escapes your lips. <em>Sweet little pea.</em> You haven’t heard that in so long.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n,” he tries again, tongue heavy against the syllables of your name. “Is that really you?”</p><p class="p1">You’ve imagined this scenario a thousand different times, a thousand different ways, and in not one of those infinite possibilities did you start off with what you ask, “Did you see me on TV?”</p><p class="p1">There’s no response, so you open your eyes, and with it comes the full expanse of vitriol you’ve never directed in their direction, “Did you see me on the national broadcast. Answer me.”</p><p class="p1">Your mother is still unmoving, forcing your father to dip his head in a nod, “With Michael’s son, yes.”</p><p class="p1">That is all it takes for you to start rolling in nausea, for you to go stumbling from the room in fear that you’re going to expel your stomach contents all over the place. You go tearing down the stairs in a hasty effort to get out of their vicinity, hand covered over your mouth as you start to retch. They saw you, they saw you, they saw you. They saw every little bit of it. They hadn’t been dead, they saw it. You burst out of the front door of your home, nearly colliding with the group of people assembled on the porch, and run right to the railing. You launch your torso right off the wood in the nick of time, vomiting straight into the sweet-smelling, feathered grass that lines your porch, and you almost tumble over the wood fully, saved barely by Kyungsoo catching you.</p><p class="p1">“Get me out of here,” you whimper, sensation of tears tracking down your cheeks so uncomfortable, head pounding, body already at an aching throb. “Kyungsoo, get me out of here, now.”</p><p class="p1">He reaches to cup your face, whispering, “What’s going on?”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, don’t go, please!”</p><p class="p1">Like a flip has been switched, at the sound of your mother’s voice the vitriol comes roaring right back, in a pot boiling over in your chest. You push Kyungsoo off you with a snarl and turn to face them, “I never thought I would be angry at you, but, but. I am so fucking mad.”</p><p class="p1">“Sweet pea…” your father’s hushed plea is almost enough to do you in, but between that and the quiet whispers that detonate, it only stokes the flame of your ire into heightened intensity.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“What’s happening?” “How does she know them?” “She’s never been here before.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">“You watched your own child almost die on national fucking broadcast and didn’t do a fucking thing!”</p><p class="p1">You don’t realize you’ve screamed it until your father takes a scared step backwards at the descent of immediate silence you’ve set off.That allows you to hear Kyungsoo’s hushed <em>oh my god</em>, see the way your father’s face crumples with remorse, in direct contrast to your mother’s unfeeling impassivity.</p><p class="p1">“Maybe you should go inside and talk,” Regent Oh gently suggests.</p><p class="p1">“No, they can’t kumbaya this shit,” you bite out harshly, in response to his well-meaning suggestion. You point a finger in your mother's direction, “I shouldn’t have run. I want answers. I don’t care if you have to give them to me in front of everyone.”</p><p class="p1">“Come on,” Kyungsoo whispers, “you need to do this in private.”</p><p class="p1">“No, Dohun is right,” you mother finally speaks up, placid tone cooling off the sparking confrontation. “This is a group discussion. We will ask you to hold us accountable in our honesty.”</p><p class="p1">She has never been this rigid and straightforward in her tonality that you’re wondering just what has transpired in your time apart to transform her into this. The vitriol is still simmering within you, but it’s been stifled by a lid of curiosity and your urge to discover exactly what’s begun to bubble up in the cracks here. As Kyungsoo, Seulgi, Baekhyun and the others begin to settle themselves across the expanse of your porch, you sit yourself down right in front of your caregivers alone, not allowing them an avenue of escaping this.</p><p class="p1">You’re preparing yourself for more of your mother’s sterile explanation, but you get your dad’s wistful voice first, “I was always a proud son of Neozone, so it shocked me, that on my first day at Pandora University, I fell for Elyxion’s proudest daughter.”</p><p class="p1">Frankly, he could’ve stopped now and you would’ve been able to piece the rest together. It always starts like this, with love. You’ve had enough time to ruminate on the possibility that it’s not even surprising to you, the revelation that you are, indeed, a product of an inter-regional relationship. Despite the seriousness of the mood, he still manages to stare at your mother with nothing but unbridled love in his eyes.</p><p class="p1">“We lived in the dorm across from each other, but it was a complete accident the first time I ever stumbled into a gathering of her and her friends. Exordium, you called yourselves.”</p><p class="p1">“I wasn’t the leader, but I had the biggest room,” your mother’s stoic voice chimes in. “My resident advisor was the one who came up with it all—,”</p><p class="p1">“Came up with what,” you interrupt, needing them to be fully clear with what this is. “What is Exordium?”</p><p class="p1">The three adults on the porch share a tentative glance between each other, and your father tries to fluff through an introduction, “I considered myself educated, even worldly, perhaps arrogantly so. I had no idea such an idea existed, that…”</p><p class="p1">“Exordium means the beginning,” your mother cuts to the chase, diving right in without coddling you. “It was an idea of a new beginning for this nation, one in which Neozone and Elyxion would be no more, and there instead would be a unified Dorado. It was naive and overbearing at the time, to think that as teenagers we would be able to ever bridge the ever present divide here.”</p><p class="p1">Never in your many contemplations of an explanation of your mother’s backstory would you have expected this, her, a beacon of hop  for justice and peace. “Over time, the goals changed. There were too many pressing issues to ignore back home. Too many people were too poor, too many people were in need of the resources that Neozone wasn’t providing us. So that’s what we became - those of us from Elyxion who found each other out of coincidence - a rescue group.”</p><p class="p1">Regent Oh gestures for her to let him to be a part of this, and once she nods, he artfully explains, “While taking classes and trying to graduate, we cast aside our hopes for a united future to help the people in our region. We shuttled them to areas of Neozone where they could start anew, provided them with clothes and shelter, even manipulated the flower registry to make it look like they were born as Neozone citizens. While I leveraged that work into the political career I started after graduation, many in our group were unsure how to continue our goals after we were separated.”</p><p class="p1">You hear your father’s light burst of laughter, so devastating in its familiarity, “You don’t have to be politically correct about it, Dohun. It was me.” He takes your mother’s hand in his, but he’s speaking right to you when he professes, “It was easy during school, to stay in the bubble of Pandora with the woman I loved and not think of the consequences of becoming a traitor.</p><p class="p1">“But as soon as I was thrust from that bubble, I was at a crossroads. Do I stay or do I go? It was a simple decision, there was no way my traditional Neozone parents would ever let me be with a girl from Tactix. So, instead of going home with them after graduation, I came here. We got married right away, because one region cannot interfere in a marriage performed in another.”</p><p class="p1">It’s infuriatingly selfless, for him to tell you this now after hiding it from you all these years. How much pain had he been in after leaving the only home he’d ever known? After getting married in a foreign town just to prevent his parents from getting it dissolved back home, from forcing him to return to a place where his love wouldn't be valid. It all makes sense, the dried flowers hung above your mantle, the dedicated care he’d take in maintaining the expanse of flowers on the side of your house. It’d all been in an effort to create a space reminiscent of his old home, here in his new one. </p><p class="p1">“I have only been back to the city once,” he admits, not feeling fully at peace with the idea, but dealing with it to the best of his ability. “Your mother allowed me to drive her all the way there when she went into labor, so we could ensure you were registered in the governmental logs as a Neozone citizen. That way you’d be able to be able to get your flower seed, sweet pea, so that you could choose to partake in that tradition if you wanted to.”</p><p class="p1">You decide then and there that he does not need to know about the pair of ceramic mugs on your kitchen windowsill. You don’t want to break his heart with the revelation of your tumble into additional despair.</p><p class="p1">“Life went on after graduation." There it is, your mother’s no nonsense way of moving the conversation past the nostalgic reminder of her unshared citizenship, “Dohun joined the assembly, and my RA friend had graduated a few years before me, so she was off the grid more than she was on it. After a few more years of hard work, it didn’t feel like it was too weird to live our lives, to have a child. Exordium fell to the wayside in favor of being a family. We rarely saw each other in person anymore, only communicating over the phone or in letters. Of course, there would still be the occasional person who came to us for help, we would always send you to the market when travelers were passing through, so that you never knew what we did.”</p><p class="p1">All those trips to the grocery store, for milk and another loaf of bread, or fertilizer for the garden, they weren't just chores. They were purposeful deceptions. You catch your father’s hand’s nervous twitch against the hem of his shorts, and his voice is twinged all the way through with those same nerves, “But when Premier Park died, we couldn’t just do that anymore.”</p><p class="p1">Premier Park had passed away only a month before you were sent away on the train. You know what’s coming now and you don’t know if you’re ready for the truth. Your father certainly isn’t ready to tell it, his voice careening all over the place as he continues on, “They never got out into the public, but in the circles we were still in, there were a lot of widespread rumors. Rumors that Neozone’s military was preparing to push across the border. To begin arresting and questioning, or at the very least, monitor the communications of those who associated with the idea of either a strengthened Elyxion or a uniform Dorado.”</p><p class="p1">Your mom finally shows a crack in her aura, the defeat showing in the downturn of her mouth, “We never were a quote public enterprise, but enough people knew about what we were doing that they’d come straight for us first, knowing Dohun was untouchable at his post.”</p><p class="p1">You know this, you know this, Michael had told you as much and you’d protested. <em>No, it wasn’t,</em> you’d petulantly said, thinking Tactix was as isolated and safe as ever when he'd gently suggested that maybe your home wasn't as secure as you thought it was. But you’d never imagined your parents would’ve been first in line to meet the firing squad. </p><p class="p1">“We couldn’t let you stay here while they hunted us down, what would’ve happened to you if they’d thrown us in jail?” Your father is not bothering to hide his emotion now, tears slipping down his face as he says, “We thought about sending you overseas. But Michael lives in this country, and he owed us, so what else could we have done? We got you on the train, changed our numbers, and hoped that would keep you safe.”</p><p class="p1">Here it is, the opportunity to answer the one question you’ve held in for the past seven years.</p><p class="p1">“Michael owed you for what?”</p><p class="p1">“Let me take over for your parents, y/n, just for this part,” Regent Oh smoothly cuts in, having taken a backseat to your parents’ tale. You have no idea what could possibly surprise you any further besides what you’ve learned so far, but y/n, why would you speak that soon. You know better than that.</p><p class="p1">"You know that I too am a proud son of Elyxion, much like your mother,” he begins, sharing a knowing grin with some of the individuals along the porch. “A son that grew up in a foster home in Oasis with a cute pair of sisters, my not-blood siblings.”</p><p class="p1">You’d forgotten that you weren’t in a vacuum alone with the three adults when you hear Sehun’s gasping, “What!,” followed by Seulgi’s soft, “Papa, I had no idea…” You’re similarly as shocked, you know little to nothing about Regent Oh’s childhood upbringing, this feels almost too personal for you to hear.</p><p class="p1">He smiles apologetically to his children, and fully unravels his lifetime lie, “The oldest girl was more staunchly loyal to our region than any of us. When we grew up and went off to college, she was the one to think up the idea of Exordium.” Your mother nods in his direction, the identity of her aforementioned university acquaintance clarified. Then, Regent Oh’s face completely transforms into a whipped little expression of love, “But the younger one, ah, that precocious girl. She decided she was curious about what sort of life existed in the region across the river, and ended up fabricating her government record to enroll at Neozone University. I don’t think we ever thought she’d stay there, let alone end up with the man who became their capital’s Regent.”</p><p class="p1">Regent Oh’s foster sister is Mark’s mother. No fucking way.</p><p class="p1">“But out of respect to her and the person she loved, the family she raised, we never divulged a morsel of her true identity. To this day, I still don’t know how they managed to have a blossom ceremony.”</p><p class="p1">The blossom ceremony that had bloomed those beautiful yellow tulips, memorialized forever on that wine colored jacket.You manage to turn to look over at Kyungsoo, whose mouth is fully open at the discovery, and feel like your heart might fall right out of your chest at the thought of your best friend. Mark has absolutely no idea his mother was originally from Elyxion, you know for a fact Michael has put in painstaking work to keep this from him.</p><p class="p1">“We heard about the Night of Darkness from the news, you were old enough to watch with us then, remember?” your father re-captures your attention, and you nod, finally understanding the context of what that moniker means.</p><p class="p1">“My basically brother-in-law must’ve known who I was, I can’t imagine Jeongah would’ve gone that long without telling the truth,” Regent Oh muses, rubbing at his forehead as he tells this harrowing bit of the story. “When she went missing, he tried to come to me for help, but I don’t think he knew where I lived with my family or where I worked.”</p><p class="p1">“We found him out in the woods, delirious with dehydration after he’d abandoned his car to not get caught, went out searching <em>on foot,</em> and gotten lost,” your father chuckles wryly, somehow also knowing the exact kind of person Michael is. “We found him right over there by the shed, brought him to Dohun’s house’s basement, and kept him there until he was healthy enough to go home two days later. We gave him a phone to keep in contact and his parting words were, <em>if you ever need me, I’ll be waiting</em>.”</p><p class="p1">You just know that when they asked, Michael had sent the train ticket without any indecision. He is that kind of person, unfailingly true to his word. You don’t even want to think about how you’ve been inadvertently connected to your parents this whole time, they had given you your own key to returning home.</p><p class="p1">“y/n, I am not sure that he ever knew where your house was,” Regent Oh clarifies, “and it’s not like we ever had a private opportunity to discuss it at work.” Michael has been as in the dark about all of this as you are. He'd offered up help from the first day you'd arrived in his care, to look into things on his end, all the times he'd ask if you'd heard from your parents, the phone he'd given you that ended up being your ticket home. There was no, absolutely no way you could’ve put it together without a lot more clues than you had and a lot more political freedom, too.</p><p class="p1">Your mother inadvertently reveals the surefire reason behind her change in personality, “We were on the run for a bit after you left, we couldn’t live here for a lot of it. But Exordium started to grow again after a few years, when more people started to need help. Knowing we didn’t have to risk your safety any longer, we came back to use our home as a control center to shuttle more and more people across the border. Dohun started to press for legislative reform.” This is what Baekhyun has been doing all this time. This is why Michael had a reputation of taking in poor strays back in Neozone, he'd been one of their contact points.</p><p class="p1">That sort of combination would’ve made anyone taciturn and hardened to the world, especially with the enormous effort she seems to be putting into this operation. You have to be a special brand of closed off, be an immense professional at keeping your emotions compartmentalized to not be affected by the hold another might have on you. Yet, it somehow hasn’t changed your father, who is still the lighthearted, loving person you remember.</p><p class="p1">“Almost everyone knew we had a daughter, but we let no one discover the woman you’d grown into. We said you went off to college on your own and gathered information about you in the bits and pieces of Michael’s life that made it onto the news,” he murmurs, closing his eyes and letting the memories of young you wash over him. “A picture of you at your graduation with his oldest son, a video of you going to see the New York Symphony together. And you, with his youngest boy.” The moment your father’s broken lament cascade onto the porch, you lose all sensation in your body save for the sharp pinch of your fingers against your hand. “I mean, I think Pandora must’ve heard my scream the moment you cut onto the screen the first time.”</p><p class="p1">It all comes flooding back into clarity, the splash of a teardrop against your knee, followed by the ghost of a chest brushing against your arm, the licking sear that traverses a phantom length of your back.</p><p class="p1">“But what could we do, us here, you with the permanent set of guards. We couldn’t even be sure that we could get a message to Michael without it getting intercepted, that’s how locked down they had you.” How can your mother not show a single iota of emotion? Your father’s crying and she’s sitting here discussing your tragedy with antiseptic nonchalance, “Things were so shuttered we couldn’t get a single person across the border, let alone ourselves.”</p><p class="p1">You hear the muffled sob of someone behind you, but your sensations dull out one final time to spotlight your father’s disturbingly honest confession, “It always seemed like you were taken care of, were well loved. So we forced ourselves to work, to never mention you to anyone. We planted another bluebell out in the garden, and only sat by it when we thought of you and wanted to cry.”</p><p class="p1">“I wished you were dead.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t register you’ve spoken until your father’s face turns a bizarre shade of purple. A strangled word follows out of his mouth, “What?”</p><p class="p1">You’ve never breathed a whisper of this to anyone else - not Mark, not Kyungsoo, not even Jaehyun - too tormented by the fact you’d allowed yourself to think it. But they need to know, they need to know the hand of torture they’d allowed to claim hold over you. No matter how much good they’ve done, no matter how many people they’ve helped, they’ve still forced you to feel the full weight of this, the crushing blunt force of the guilt.</p><p class="p1">“I wished you were dead so many times,” you whisper, looking away from them with total and abject shame. “So you never had to see any of that.”</p><p class="p1">This time, without waiting to see what devastation you rain upon your father, and what lack of reaction you’ll get from your mother, you run back into the house instead of away from it. You lock yourself in your old room and beeline straight to the cushy lounge chair that's set up right by your window. No one dares to knock. That means you're alone when you're forced to contemplate that you were right. Your parents have not touched your room once since you've been gone. They've left it exactly as you remember.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">__</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Car approaching!”</p><p class="p1">You see the vehicle pulling up to the fence before you hear the outpost sentry’s cry. It’s hard to miss, from the spot you’ve been sat in by the window for almost an entire day now, if the rise and fall of the sun is any indication. You’ve in no way healed from the numerous revelations proffered up the previous night, primed to remain upon in your chair, amongst the quilts that smell like the strawberry shampoo you used to use, until someone caves and comes to retrieve you.</p><p class="p1">But that is struck down when you see a person emerge from the backseat of the nondescript silver car, a person you can’t just sit here and wonder about. You tentatively undo the lock on your door to peek at what’s going on, relieved to find only Seulgi waiting at the top of the stairs. Everyone's gathered on the first floor if the differing noise level is any indication.</p><p class="p1">“Is that, is that Premier Park’s grandson?” you ask without announcing yourself, and she turns in surprise to see your disheveled form there. “Is that really Hyungsik Park?”</p><p class="p1">Almost all of the late Premier’s family had moved overseas after his passing, save for his only grandson, who’d stayed in Dorado at the time to finish his degree at XM University. You’d assumed that he’d go off to join his parents when his studies were over, not remain here. But here he is in the middle of the living room, his six foot plus frame, his onyx black hair a shiny beacon in the middle of all the plainness.</p><p class="p1">“He is her second in command, but also her cover,” Seulgi explains, her lack of surprise cluing you into the fact he probably is around often. “She can go to the capital with him undetected since he’s held in such esteem still.”</p><p class="p1">There’s the mention of the eponymous <em>her</em> that you haven’t met yet - surely your mother’s associate from university that had sparked the first idea of the Exordium, Regent Oh’s other foster sister. If Hyungsik has arrived, you will get your first glimpse of her in the forthcoming minutes. You stand on your tiptoes to peer over the banister, to see a small woman with a grey bob walk in through the front door. This location gives you the perfect vantage point to catch Kyungsoo dropping his glass of water on the floor, the shards shattering over the wood panels.</p><p class="p1">He pushes past Baekhyun, Kai, and three other people before he can block the entryway. Though you can’t see his face from behind, you can only imagine what sort of expression he’s wearing, if the stunned word that comes out of him is an indicator,</p><p class="p1">“Momma?”</p><p class="p1">The grey haired woman literally shoves Hyungsik out of the way to find the source of the noise. And when she sees the man in front of her, you don’t think you’ve seen as joyful as an expression before, “Kyungsoo?”</p><p class="p1">This is proof enough that you live parallel lives, him reuniting with his mother only the day after you’d reunited with yours. But this is another cruel reminder that the fortuitous hand of the universe had only extended to him. There’s no confrontation, no cursing or screaming match, no therapy session on the porch. It’s just a woman and her child, reuniting in an embrace of tenderest love.</p><p class="p1">Her weepy exclamation rings out through the house, “Oh my gosh, my child, my child! I can’t believe we’re meeting again like this.” She grasps at him like he’s still her baby and not a thirty year old man, and it comes out again and again, “I missed you so much. I missed you so much.”</p><p class="p1">If every single person was surprised to find out who you were, the sentiment has elevated to something higher than surprise right now. Each and every one of the people in your house is absolutely flabbergasted that their leader has a son, save your parents and Regent Oh. She must’ve told them of the existence of her child, but had not ever told them Kyungsoo’s identity, just like your parents hadn’t with yours.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is Mark’s cousin, his mother is Mark’s mother’s sister. No wonder the thugs had gotten their bloodlines mixed up when trying to find the second Lee son. No wonder the two men had become fast friends. They’re bound by blood.</p><p class="p1">Regent Oh doesn’t look shocked at the reveal of her offspring, but by the fact that he’s here. “This is your son, Kyungah?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, my son. Only mine,” she responds quite fiercely. It is with that that you piece it together - the cyclamen seed hidden away in his twin ceramic mug, the truth behind her heritage, her sole claim over him. Kyungsoo’s father must be a Neozone man, one that is no longer part of her existence. Ironic.</p><p class="p1">She holds her boy’s face in her hands, kissing him on the forehead in a gesture you just know she used to indulge in all the time, and says, “My son, we’ll have to speak later, we have many pressing issues to discuss.”</p><p class="p1">At that, everyone begins to assemble with practiced ease, her standing in front of the fireplace with Hyungsik by her side, your parents and Regent Oh on the couch beside her, the remainder scattered amongst the seats and floor of your home. You watch as she transforms before your very eyes, from the small woman who’d hugged her son in tears, to a powerful, commanding leader, who holds all the attention in the room.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you all for your warm greeting,” she starts, bowing in respect to her supporters. “Our trip to the capital was short but fruitful.”</p><p class="p1">“First off, Dohun,” she addresses Regent Oh directly, “you need to have to your staff prepare. The security ministry will drop the results of their investigation into the Lee incident sometime in the next month.”</p><p class="p1">You involuntarily reach to hold Seulgi’s arm so you don’t fall right over the banister, and when she registers the connection, she puts a comforting hand around your shoulders. Kyungah continues on, unaware of the discomfort lurking at the top of the stairs, “We still don’t know who those damn men were, but I will not be at all surprised if they make some outlandish connection to us and the region. I’m not sure what proof they have, since that Neozone girl killed those bastards before they were even questioned, but you can be sure it’s coming.”</p><p class="p1">She’d been away for the distressing discussion of the previous night, hasn’t yet seen you at your hiding spot on the stairs, so she misses the way everyone winces at her misinformation. You’re not only a Neozone girl anymore, nor an Elyxion girl. Just like her son isn’t.</p><p class="p1">“They’re going to try and spin it like they spun Grandfather’s death,” Hyungsik’s deep voice penetrates your thoughts, imposing and melancholy, which turns into bitterness, “like any of us believed he died of natural causes as a perfectly healthy seventy-five year old.”</p><p class="p1">You’re unsure how you continue to be surprised, but this is certainly a bombshell you hadn’t been expecting. Not a single person in Neozone had ever questioned the circumstances behind Premier Park’s passing, beyond the occasional lament that it had been too early for him to go. At first, you think it must be the grieving thoughts of a grandson, but there are assenting noises emanating throughout the house. Even Kai and Suho are nodding severely below. What do they think happened, then?</p><p class="p1">“You’re right about that, Sik, we should be smart about how we take the news,” Regent Oh agrees, in an even keeled manner that immediately pacifies the bolus of tension that was about to brew. His phrasing convinces you this isn’t some sort of conspiracy theory. This is a deep held belief amongst the citizens here, even though Premier Park had been from Neozone they still find the events surrounding his death suspicious. This is what must’ve brought Hyungsik across the border, to have him take a place of prominence within this organization.</p><p class="p1">“Other than that, we didn’t get much. They wouldn’t let us visit the Vice Premier, we only managed to see a glimpse of him and his son at his residence once.”</p><p class="p1">Your hands seize at her mention of Michael and Mark, more so than usual with the level of scheming that seems to be swirling around you. Even as the meeting dissipates and everyone goes back to their usual conversations, even as you can feel your father’s eye on you as you descend the stairs with Seulgi, all you can think of is Michael and Mark there alone in the capital, lurking shadows by their home, the Pandora Building opening up and enveloping them within.</p><p class="p1">You’re lost in your waking nightmare to the point that you don’t hear Kyungsoo approaching you. You only register him there when he forgoes a hug to seal an immediate kiss against your mouth, the heat of the action reviving your dead heart. He presses his nose to yours, a gesture that should inspire comfort, but instead makes you tremble with a different memory. <em>He</em> should’ve been here for this, he used to be the only one you’d talk to about reuniting with your parents. He was the one who made fuzzy, beautiful memories sound like a reality you wanted to live in.</p><p class="p1">“Soo?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo twists his head, his hands still on your face, and an embarrassed little smile crosses his face at the sight of the woman, “Momma, um. This is y/n.” You hadn’t clued anyone in on the nature of your relationship in your time here, and it’s now that you realize everyone, your parents included, has just seen you kissing. You want to hide behind Kyungsoo forever at that, but he’s inclined to pull you up to his side, to show you off.</p><p class="p1">Kyungah’s face drains of its color completely as she recognizes exactly who you are, and she respectfully inclines her head in greeting, “Hello.”</p><p class="p1">She’s prepped to apologize for how crudely she’d spoken about you earlier, unaware that you were present. But you’ve heard that word from her lips before, tranquil and crackly through the speaker on an old, crusty phone, that word, only one word. <em>Hello.</em></p><p class="p1">“You were the one who answered the call,” you breathe out, more shocked than ever at this revelation. You’re sure she’s received many a call over the time she’s been in charge of this movement, now knowing that her associates also received the phones. But you’d yelled enough identifying information in your desperation that she knows exactly what you’re referencing.</p><p class="p1">“How did you have the phone?” she asks, almost as astonished as you are.</p><p class="p1">“The Vice Premier gave it to me. My parents, they sent me to stay with him when I was a teen.” You don’t know if you’re supposed to keep this ambiguous considering it had been revealed to the entire house last night. You try to keep your expression controlled, but your eyes flick to where your mother and father are standing beside each other in your kitchen, nervously watching you.</p><p class="p1">She sees it all, expression melting in realization, “Oh. <em>Oh</em>. Honey, it is so nice to finally meet you. Your mother has told me so much about you.”</p><p class="p1">It is such a blatant lie you almost want to thank her for it. You’re sure she’s been given nothing more than the vaguest outlines of your existence, that you were their daughter and not much else. Keeping the details to themselves had been disguised as an action of protection over you, but you’re sure they hadn’t actually given a damn. Kyungah’s lack of knowledge of who you were beyond being <em>the Neozone girl</em> had been enough of a clue.</p><p class="p1">“We gave a phone to Michael that time we crossed paths, Kyungah,” your father softly interjects once he registers your blank look. “We said it was from you so he’d take it home, but we didn’t know he was going to give it to y/n.” Her eyes shutter closed in a moment of regret, and you know now that she hadn’t been aware of this before.</p><p class="p1">“Did you call the number a lot?” she asks you with full worry and sympathy, and when you nod your head, feeling such like an overwhelmed child, she wraps you up in another hug. “I’m so sorry, honey. I get so many calls all the time, there are so many phones that I only answer the ones of the contacts that I know. But you called so many times that day, you finally caught my attention. If you hadn’t, I never would’ve sent Dohun and Seulgi out in the forest to look.”</p><p class="p1">It was all you. It was because of you and you only that Michael had made it back to his sons. Well, you and your parents inadvertently. You are still filled with such rage towards them, that hasn't changed overnight. But this? Knowing how they’ve helped who you see as an actual parent? This has muddied the water for you in regards to them.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you for helping Michael when you did,” you murmur into her shoulder as she continues hugging you, “I know his sons were really thankful he came home safely.”</p><p class="p1">“He is my brother-in-law, I should be thanking you,” she reassures you with tender, mothering care, patting your head softly before she pulls away to takes her son’s hand. “If you’ll excuse me now, I need to catch up with my baby.”</p><p class="p1">The route she takes, tucked into Kyungsoo’s side as they softly chat back and forth, passes her right in front of your mother, whose contrasting, blank stare veers off into the distance. You didn’t expect her to run to you in slow motion through a field of flowers, to scream and cry and jump up in victory that you had been reunited, but she hadn’t even attempted to wrap you in a hug, to hold your hand. Why couldn’t she have been more like Kyungsoo’s mother?</p><p class="p1">“Well, I guess we both owe each other big fat apologies,” Baekhyun drawls as he pulls you into a side hug and diverts the attention away from you standing there alone. Seulgi joins you, too, her brother and his boyfriend and your other friends all engrossed in their own conversation with her father.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” you breathe out, watching your parents watch you across the way, “no shit.”</p><p class="p1">The singer holds you even tighter and offers up one more apology, "I didn't mean to freak you out with the blindfold thing. That's just Kyungah's rule, no one can know where this house is. I figured the guys would be fine with it because they enjoy this kind of adventure, but I forgot that's sort of like what happened to you..."</p><p class="p1">It is kind of him to make amends, at least. No one would ever have that kind of instinctive reaction to panic at darkness except for you and Kyungsoo, you're not even sure how he managed to stay so calm during the car ride over. </p><p class="p1">Baekhyun's talking again, you snap out of your internal monologue to listen to him explain, “After college I started getting famous, but no matter how much money I sent to my parents and brother, they just couldn’t keep up with their house payments. I’d heard of Exordium through some connections I had, and we got my family settled in a cushy New Jersey apartment maybe five years ago? I stayed behind to keep making money, and felt obliged to continue to help out. Like I said, I only was able to act as a middleman for transport, and by donating my album funds. I never knew of any of this.”</p><p class="p1">You have been just a hair’s breadth away from discovering it all so many times now, and you have absolutely no idea if you’d wanted to know it sooner. It’s almost better that you didn’t find out until you were at this relatively stable point in your emotional well-being. Being stuck at your home in total physical suffering, and on top of that knowing your parents did not come to help even if they weren’t able to, would’ve been the perfect mix to trap you in that dark spiral forever.</p><p class="p1">“Now you see why I could never do anything about,” Seulgi chimes in, but lowers her voice so Baekhyun can’t hear the next two words, “<em>the letters.</em> Papa never expected us to join him, he’s always been happy that Sehun teaches dance and has kept this from him completely. But I always felt that I was obligated to help my region like I do.” You’re sad that her sense of duty has kept her apart from your friend for this long. But without her doing so, Michael never would’ve made his way out of those woods.</p><p class="p1">“Why did you never say anything?” Baekhyun ventures carefully. “Soo didn’t know about his mom because he grew up in y'alls city, but you knew you were from here.”</p><p class="p1">“What was I supposed to say? That I grew up telling a lie that felt more comfortable to me than saying the truth? Because my mother didn’t give a shit about me in deference to a bunch of people she’s never met?” you hiss in derision, without thinking that someone around you could’ve overheard all of that. You don’t understand, you were their <em>child</em> first, no matter how much she was grounded into her mission, your mother should’ve fought tooth and nail for you. Michael did.</p><p class="p1">“Hi Seulgi,” your father interrupts, and a great iceberg of a chill freezes round your neck.You absolutely hate he’s familiar with her in this way, and you hate it even more that he’s clearly heard your awful words and is still so sweet when he softly asks, “can I borrow my daughter for a second?”</p><p class="p1">Seulgi has to physically remove your hand from her arm in order to leave you with him. You’ve never felt more alone and vulnerable than the moment your father sits across from you on the couch, not next to you, unwilling to be close to you in any way.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t want to blame your mother for this,” is what he chooses to open with.</p><p class="p1">He’s right there, his familiar smell is absolutely overwhelming to the point where you have to lean back to rest your head on the edge of the couch in respite. He’s clearly been aching to have this talk with you, to steal you away for a moment alone. You knew this was coming, yet you still don’t have the poise to deal with it.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t—,” you start, wanting to finish <em>I don’t blame her</em>, as it is proper to deny.</p><p class="p1">But he cuts you off, the extension of himself he’s been parted from for far too long, knowing your real answer, “You do. I know exactly what you’re thinking, if she hadn’t been from here, none of this would’ve happened.”</p><p class="p1">While the thought had crossed your mind during your dark, dark overnight contemplation of your new reality, that isn’t what’s bothering you the most. You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I was going to say at all.”</p><p class="p1">“What was it, then?”</p><p class="p1">Your mother’s eyes are boring a hole right into you from where she’s standing in the kitchen. Upon her face is palpable envy, jealousy, misery, the first signs of any emotion from her. That’s what forces the awful sentiment out, “I mean, it was clear you were fucking ruined over what happened. But she sat there like a robot and couldn’t even smile at me, couldn’t cry, nothing. She doesn’t even care.”</p><p class="p1">He sucks in a harsh inhale. You know the words you’d said were particular in the hurt they inflicted. But he’d cried his heart out in his effort to give you the truth he thought you’d deserved and she’d treated you like a task on a checklist. That’s why you take it with a grain of salt when he jumps to her defense, “I don’t ever expect you to understand or forgive us for the decisions we made regarding your welfare. I feel like we took a thousand wrong turns, did a million wrong things. Sometimes I wish I could’ve kept you here, kept you away from the horrors that you’ve experienced. But you can’t say she didn’t care.”</p><p class="p1">You’re poised to retort with a daring <em>oh yeah? why not</em>, to goad him into lying even further for his wife. But you don’t get a chance to, stunned into silence when he takes your hand carefully in his calloused one, the first time either of your parents have dared to touch you since you were a child.</p><p class="p1">“Every time she’d see something you made on the TV,” he murmurs, “she’d make it herself, so it’d feel like you were here, sweet pea. I have a whole trunk of shirts and scarves and ties, because they’d always show up on those young men you spent time with.”</p><p class="p1">You’re positive that's something he’s made up to convince you of her feelings. There's no way you're going to find this mysterious trunk at the foot of their bed, and open it to reveal a wine blazer covered in tulips, a geometric print t-shirt in grey and black, or a tie emblazoned with an elegant deer. You don’t know why you’re so determined to hold onto this anger, but you roll your eyes and mutter in return, “Great, nice to know she could sew when I couldn’t.”</p><p class="p1">“What are you talking about?”</p><p class="p1">There’s only a select few that know about this and you can’t believe that your father is not one of them. You still can't believe that you’d had to go through all this trauma yourself.</p><p class="p1">You say it loud enough that you know she will hear from where she’s standing in the kitchen, “Kyungsoo was there, too. He broke my hand so I could try to save that boy. Jeno died and I was alone because I couldn’t fathom being around Michael and Mark and I did not sew another thing until this February.” You feel his fingers involuntarily twitch, like he’s trying to feel for your scars yourself. “Not just because I couldn’t physically do it, but because the last thing I ever sewed was for him.”</p><p class="p1">It’s just like your thoughts about Taeil all over again. How was it fair that they could stay in the middle of this oak forest’s protection and remain unharmed, that your mother could sew when you weren’t able to, that they worked and went about their daily lives when you weren't physically or emotionally capable of doing any of that. They had each other to cry by the bluebells with when again, you’d spent every day with only your tortured soul. You’re going to say it right to them, you’re going to make them understand how much pain they’ve put you through.</p><p class="p1">Your father does not give you a chance. He’s pulls you up from the couch, your body following obediently like it knows you’re his child, and he cradles you in his arms to take you towards the kitchen. You want to protest, to push back and keep him from taking you to her, but you’re drawn into his side by his gravitational pull. He doesn’t take you to your mother, not really, he takes a few more steps, and together, you stop right in front of your refrigerator.</p><p class="p1">It’s strange that he’s brought you here. Maybe he’s going to get you a glass of water to calm down, or pull out a homemade croissant to convince you to it’s going to be okay. But among the magnets and pictures and your old drawings that are still stuck up on the appliance, there’s one new addition that you don’t remember. You begin to fill with gratitude that he’d taken your hand, because you know you would’ve tumbled to the floor without it.</p><p class="p1">Pressed to the freezer door, under the strength of a magnet, is a small square of white cotton. Nestled right in the middle of the ivory expanse is one tiny, embroidered, smiling strawberry.</p><p class="p1">Not quite yours, but so, so close.</p><p class="p1">“Every night we prayed that you made it out of there together. I’m so sorry you didn’t, sweet pea. This was the last thing she sewed, too.”</p><p class="p1">Your neck snaps to the side so fast there’s an ache of pain, ameliorated immediately by the small, sad smile that has made its way across your mother’s face. The shake of her hands echoes the tremor in yours, the hands that had once lovingly taught you the craft you cherish. It’s not that they didn’t care. It’s that they cared so much it literally hurt them. You look out into the garden, the bluebells they planted for you, framed under the supportive branches of the oak trees, the branches of them that had somehow been watching over you all this time. And you let your father hold you as you cry.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>backstory = revealed, plot = ratcheting up, tension = high, </p><p>thank u so much for reading! can't wait to hear your thoughts!</p><p>Nell - Time Spent Walking Through Memories (the taeyeon version is amazing too! and doyoung's!) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K72ZxP9ZAP4&amp;ab_channel=StoneMusicEntertainment</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. cyclamen purpurascens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Why don’t you two get married?” Kai says, as a very innocent offer.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>OOOOH I THINK YOU'LL LIKE THIS ONE!</p><p> </p><p>Dorado map - ibb.co/S5VfGDD</p><p>Family tree of some of the characters, as requested - https://ibb.co/1XtfGPN</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Seulgi and Sehun accompany you back home that night, the car quiet and contemplative, the cavernous lake house even more so. You’re all exhausted, emotionally drained, all of the above, that you don’t even talk during the movie you watch or even really pay attention.</p><p class="p1">It’s the Oh sister that groans lowly over her laptop after the credits are rolling, diligently working away despite her fatigue, “Ugh.”</p><p class="p1">“What’s wrong?” you ask, from where you’re washing dishes side by side with Kyungsoo.</p><p class="p1">“Funds are getting so low for Exordium,” she grumbles, flicking back and forth between a few spreadsheets. “No matter how much of his personal fortune Papa has funneled in these past few months, we’re about to be run dry.”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun curses, “Shit, even with my album? I specifically went for the sexy concept so that more would sell.”</p><p class="p1">She clicks a few more keys and nods grimly, “Even if you sell another three million albums, that’ll maybe keep us afloat until the end of next month.”</p><p class="p1">“You shouldn’t have paid me,” you grumble to Baekhyun, feeling guilty that you’d accepted his ridiculously fake stylist fee, “I can give you my money.” In fact, you have a lot of money left in your savings. There’s part of the trust fund Michael had set up for you plus the government’s exorbitant paycheck they’d given you for doing nothing. It's an unemployment payment that regular citizens should be getting, too.</p><p class="p1">“Why don’t you two get married?” Kai says, as a very innocent offer. You think he’s randomly talking to Sehun and Suho, more like teasing them, for their very lovey, burgeoning relationship. But Suho is on the couch behind him, and Kai is looking right at you.</p><p class="p1">It’s an innocent offer that gets a very harsh reception from you, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”</p><p class="p1">“No, you’re not from here,” Kai starts, before he corrects himself with his new knowledge, “you know what I mean — you don’t know the custom. If you register a marriage at a Regent’s office, you get a stipend from the government.”</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t know Dorado did that.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s not all of Dorado. It’s an Elyxion thing,” Suho explains your lack of knowledge of the reward. “It won’t be much, I think it’s maybe like a few thousand dollars per person? But that’s another someone in need you can help.”</p><p class="p1">You’re still having a hard time both wrapping your head around what Kai is suggesting, and trying your best to keep your breathing at a normal pace. You dumbly parrot his idea to make sure you understand, “You want us to get married for the good of the cause?”</p><p class="p1">“Weren’t you guys going to get married anyways?” Baekhyun waves a blasé hand. “Just speed it up a little.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo weighs in finally, with as carefree as a tone as the rest of his friends, “I mean, sure. If you need the money, it’s whatever.”</p><p class="p1">You glance over at the man beside you, who’s continuing to rinse plates like this isn’t a huge deal. Nothing’s changed per se, between you in your relationship. But now that both of you have indirectly revealed to your parents the kind of feelings you hold for each other, it feels much more concrete, being with him. But marriage? This would be legally binding, whether or not it is farcical or real, you would be registered as married to Kyungsoo Do. Married.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n?”</p><p class="p1">You’ve zoned all the way out, only brought back to reality by Baekhyun’s questioning interjection. There’s no masking the pained breath that escapes you, “Sorry, I uh. Whew. Didn’t think that question would hit me that deeply.”</p><p class="p1">“I mean it’s yes or no. And you guys like each other a disgusting amount, so?”</p><p class="p1">That is true. You do like Kyungsoo. You like him a lot. <em>Like </em>is surely enough sentiment to inspire a marriage in this instance, right? He seems to think so, shooting you a knowing grin which shoots a burst of panic up your veins. He shoots a knowing grin to Seulgi, and then teases you, “She can’t agree until she asks our cousin first.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve barely spoken about the revelation that he and Mark are connected by blood, and he, Seulgi, and Sehun are connected by circumstance. The details are tiny but significant in the grand scheme of things. Kyungsoo thinks he knows the reason behind your hesitation, and that brings up another swollen wave of guilt so nasty that you can’t agree right away. You’re forced to lie once more, “This is real, no matter the motivation behind why we’re doing it. And I, well, I’ve always thought I’d get my family’s approval before I got married. Mark and the Vice Premier are my family now, too.”</p><p class="p1">It’s slimy, using your widely known grief to get your way, time and time again, but you have to take advantage of their sympathetic nods, their lack of protest.</p><p class="p1">“I won’t be long. One call is what I’ll need.”</p><p class="p1">Mark will surely say yes, he’s been steadfast in his support of the pair of you since he’d assumed Kyungsoo was the boy from home at the birthday party. He’d even felt vindicated when you’d accidentally let it slip over the phone that you were seeing each other as more than friends. All you need to do is dial his number, have the news tumble out, and use his assurance as the leverage you need to convince yourself to do this.</p><p class="p1">His number is in the contact book of your new phone, you’ve had it memorized for years now. But your dumb brain chooses that moment to remember that you’d gotten a call right before all of this had exploded into reality. You really want to find out if Yuta has responded to you. You pull out your old iPhone from your bag instead of the shiny new one in your pocket, immediately dialing the voicemail number. You don’t know how much nonsense you have to sift through in your inbox before you get to Yuta’s, so you click forward to the first notification, and the automatic voice recites, <em>Message forwarded from Lee, Mark</em>.</p><p class="p1">This is probably when you’d spilled the beans that you’d abandoned your home. He’d been in a meeting with his father during the first call, and you’d left an urgent, quick message to call you back. You’d played phone tag then, he’d called and left a message, and when you’d called again he’d nearly burst into tears upon answering. This is probably that message, you’ll chuckle at his terrified voice, delete it, and flip to his number - which should still be the first of your favorites, to call him.</p><p class="p1">But that is not what this is, not what is is at all.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Hi, Marco. It’s me.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">That silvery timbre is the killing blow of all killing blows straight to your heart, and you’re forced into a huddle on your haunches at the surprise attack. You shouldn’t listen to this, shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t. But fuck, you’re a damn fool for ever thinking you could resist Jaehyun’s ethereal voice.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Feels weird to open with that, considering I can’t even remember when the last time I used that nickname was. Anyways, I’m on a break at work so I’ll make it fast.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1"><em>I saw on the news that your pops announced he was going to be visiting Neozone. I watched a bunch more reports and even looked online, but couldn’t find anything about you. That’s why I’m calling. Y/n is… I don’t know. She misses you a lot. I think it’d make her happy if you came home too. Give me a call if you ever want to talk, I’m always here for you. Love you, bro</em>.</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">That’s just. That’s can’t be.</p><p class="p1">There’s really no reasonable explanation for how this could’ve possibly happened, that it must’ve been a mistake, a slip of the mind, a lapse in understanding, something, anything. It is literally impossible that you and Jaehyun both did the same thing, both pled with, begged, implored Mark to come home to make the other happy. It is literally impossible he’d used the exact turn of phrase that had spilled from your heart onto that sheet of paper, <em>please, please, please think about coming home when your father visits. It’d make Jaehyun happy. </em>It is literally impossible that you’ve waited this long to listen to this awful, beautiful message.</p><p class="p1">You’d had the thought that before Kyungsoo, you’d never experienced having someone always look out for you. A person who’d put the thought of you at the forefront of their mind, who’d take the ticking hands of time and halt them fully, in pursuit of the acumen of your heart. But Jaehyun had done all of that for you once, without you knowing any of it.</p><p class="p1">It is that which forces your hand.</p><p class="p1">They don’t even notice you making your way back into the kitchen, absorbed as they are in drinking the bottles of wine they’ve opened in your absence. It takes you one, two, three tries to clear your voice to a pitch loud enough that they can hear, “I’m in.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo looks up, glass halfway up to his lips that twist in a smirk. “That fast? I didn’t even hear you talking.”</p><p class="p1">“Mark would approve,” you mumble in lame explanation. “So would Michael.”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun claps his hands, pleased that you’ve acquiesced to Kai’s idea, then jokes,“Don’t you guys have some kind of voodoo ritual you have to before you get married? Or at least half of you or something?”</p><p class="p1">“Are you talking about a blossom ceremony?” Kyungsoo groans, pushing at his friend for his lame attempt at joke about your newly revealed twin inter-region backgrounds.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Baekhyun nods, looking excitedly between the two of you. “Should we do one?”</p><p class="p1">“There’s no point, it’s not going to work,” Kyungsoo drawls, then punctuates his sentence with an incredibly long drink of wine, an action you want to partake in at the thought of where this conversation is going to be going.</p><p class="p1">“What? Why?” Sehun asks, naive and well-assuming. “Isn’t it all about proving who your true love is?”</p><p class="p1">“Dude, I told you about Luna, hello?” Suho hisses, shooting Kyungsoo an apologetic expression at his boyfriend’s question.</p><p class="p1">“You can love more than one person, idiot,” Sehun bites back.</p><p class="p1">It’s a statement that can be tossed up for debate in any discussion, and never come to a concrete conclusion on whether it’s right or wrong. But you know in your heart of hearts that you do not believe what Sehun’s saying. It’s literally impossible that Kyungsoo loves you right now, literally impossible that you love him.</p><p class="p1">“I found the instructions on Google, we could try it,” Seulgi offers with a shrug. “You never know.” You know that there’s an element of selfishness in the suggestion, to see what she will miss out on if she ever deigns to write Yuta in return.</p><p class="p1">With a groan, Kyungsoo gets up from his barstool so you don’t have to. He retrieves the mugs from where they’ve been sitting on the windowsill since you returned from your makeshift blossom ceremony in Baekhyun’s front yard. Placing them on the island with a clang, he grumbles, “I’m telling you, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”</p><p class="p1">“First,” Seulgi reads off the screen, “bow to those who have given you life.”</p><p class="p1">“Yikes,” you gripe, the subject still tender. Nothing with your parents had been patched up when you’d left the house beyond a mutual understanding of the tribulations you’d gone through. But it feels weird, that they’re not here, even for this farce.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo beckons his buddies forward, noticing your discomfort. “You guys will do, you’re close enough.”</p><p class="p1">You turn to Baekhyun, the replacement brother you’d never thought you’d have. You bow at the waist, just as Kyungsoo does the same to Suho and Kai. It doesn’t feel weird because your real parents aren’t here, it feels weird because this should’ve been Michael. It really should’ve been Michael.</p><p class="p1">“Next, bow to the one your heart has selected.”</p><p class="p1">“Not exactly the best selection,” Kyungsoo ribs first as you turn to face each other.</p><p class="p1">You roll your eyes, but his barb has landed with intention, making you smile, “Speak for yourself.”</p><p class="p1">You repeat the gesticulation, dipping your torso forward and bringing it back up to be greeted by Kyungsoo pulling a grotesquely funny face in your direction. You burst into a chain of light giggles and think that this feeling might be enough. If you could hold half an ounce of this happiness with you when you’re with him, it will be enough.</p><p class="p1">“Place the seed of your soul into the nourishing soil.”</p><p class="p1">“Already done.” The pair of you pick up the ceramic mugs and clink them together like you’re in a bar about to chug a liter of beer down.</p><p class="p1">“Transfer the elixir of life from the stem to the roots.”</p><p class="p1">This is the part that hurts the most, Baekhyun, Kai, and Suho yammering as they go to the sink and fill plastic cups with water. At Changmin and Hanna’s ceremony, you’d been filled with delight at the prospect of Jeno being the one to hand you the crystal goblet of liquid, the idea that he’d be flanked by three other men who are not the men in this house right now. You will have to make your peace with only Baekhyun handing you the water instead.</p><p class="p1">“Give thanks to the flora of our land. And pour.”</p><p class="p1">As you lift your cup to the ceiling, you know exactly what you’re giving thanks to - the blanket of tiny white flowers in the backyard of your old home. Then, you cross your arms, Kyungsoo’s right over your left, and shower the water over the mugs. Because you’re not totally heartless, your breath does manage to get caught in your throat at the idea of that secret sprig of the cyclamen springing up from the soil. You wait a moment, and then another, and then enough time passes that you know nothing is going to happen. You might be totally heartless then, because your instinct reaction is to feel nothing but abject relief.</p><p class="p1">“What did I say?” Kyungsoo grunts, more out of annoyance than displeasure, pointing at the unbroken surface of the interior. “I told you nothing was going to happen.”</p><p class="p1">“The fuck?” Kai blurts, bringing his face right up to the dirt to confirm he hadn’t missed anything. “That’s literally so dumb.”</p><p class="p1">“You can’t insult a cultural tradition!” Suho exclaims, ever the proper man.</p><p class="p1">“It’s not an insult, it’s true!” Kai exclaims in exasperation. “Obviously Luna was Kyungsoo’s true love, but what if he’s y/n’s? Is she just fucked then?”</p><p class="p1">What, and you mean, what the actual fuck could you possibly say in response to that. Your flower didn’t blossom either, but it’s not exactly like you can chirp, <em>hey, guess what? Kyungsoo isn’t the only man who will not unfurl those petals. I already know that there’s nothing he can do.</em></p><p class="p1">“She’s not, don’t worry. She’s got a boy back in Neozone surely waiting for her,” Kyungsoo teases like you’d used to do, thinking he’s being hilarious in rubbing your story in your face.</p><p class="p1">He’s come to terms with Luna’s absence from his life, surely assuming that the passage of time since divulging your similar situation would’ve made the wounds heal for you. But like he’d compared your grief once, he’s given his love the full respect to rest as it deserves. You still have this constant, punctuating reminder in your heart, prodding and prodding away.</p><p class="p1">“No, not waiting. He already had his,” you inform everyone, a very stiff, closelipped smile pasted on your mouth. You dip your head towards Baekhyun to let him know you’re not flaking, “We’ll still go to the Regent’s office when it’s open next. You’ll get your funds.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t care if your abrupt exit clues them into your less than pleasant feelings about what’s transpired, but you need to be alone, if only for a second. Jaehyun and Mimi were supposed to have their blossom ceremony all the way back in March. You’d had all of the channels of communication back home closed off completely, and perhaps Mark had some innate sense to never mention anything about his friend to you. But you just know they’d had a stunning ceremony, just know he’d had the most unbelievable look of affection on his face when he’d seen the honeysuckle bloom with Mimi’s guidance.</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” Kyungsoo’s voice pulls your gaze away from the ceiling fan where you’re lying on the bed. “I didn’t know he already had his blossom ceremony.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s what <em>I’m in a situation where I can never actually make it happen</em> meant,” you mutter, staring back at the incessant spinning of the blades above you. “Of course you wouldn’t know that.”</p><p class="p1">The bed creaks when he lies down onto the comforter beside you, and you think he’ll offer some words of comfort up for the first instance you’ve really brought this up since leaving Neozone. But maybe he hasn’t picked up on your sour mood because he chooses to joke again, “Makes it harder for me to guess who my competition is. Probably some mysterious and handsome older dude who would’ve swept you off your feet. None of your friends have had one.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Yes, he has. You were there when he announced it.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Does it feel weird?” you venture, unable to endure another agonizing minute of self-induced silence. “Knowing for sure we aren’t each other’s true loves?”</p><p class="p1">You’ve already committed to doing this with him, but perhaps his answer will give you clarity on the future. He thinks for a minute, fingers idly running through his hair, and he settles on a stunning ray of sentiment, “Does a love have to be true to be worth something?”</p><p class="p1">He’s won the war without giving you an opportunity for a retaliatory blow. Because the love you’ve collected from the people in your life is not the kind of true love that can be confirmed in a blossom ceremony. But the alternate love that’s been heaped upon you, from Yuta, from John, from Mark and Jeno and Michael, is the most worthwhile thing you’ve ever been in possession of.</p><p class="p1">“I guess not,” you sigh.</p><p class="p1">That clues him in to your downtrodden mind, and he rolls over to press a kiss to your cheek and ask, “Are you good? What did Mark end up saying that changed your mind?”</p><p class="p1">“I wasn’t going to say no.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh please,” he scoffs. “You clammed up the minute Kai suggested it.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s not because of you,” you bluster, because Kyungsoo’s the one who’s committed the least offense in all of this. The person at the top of the list? Well, that’s you for sure.</p><p class="p1">“You had it all planned out, right?” he hums, fingers dancing across the cotton comforter to lace with yours.“What you’d wear — probably something you’d sewn; how you’d decorate — very elegantly understated, with your flower all over the place. Your parents there, Mark, little man. It’s going to feel wrong for you, no matter what.”</p><p class="p1">That. That is why you’re okay with this.</p><p class="p1">You turn on your side to stare right into his face, to run your hand over the slope of his jaw, to whisper, “You don’t think it’s going to feel wrong? To have my name on the certificate instead?”</p><p class="p1">His pursed lips, coupled with the flex of his hand around yours, is enough of a hint this is something he’d avoided considering, because of its uncomfortable nature.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> It feels almost like a cut and paste right now, Luna is gone from his life so he's shuttering you in instead, and you're doing the same in return. </span>Kyungsoo comes through with the same saving grace he always holds for you, “Like I said, the love doesn’t have to be true.”</p><p class="p1">Boom, the thud of your heart ricochets into your ears, the first sign that you haven’t lost it completely to someone else. “Are you saying you love me?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” he confesses, honestly, simple and relieving, “I’m saying I opposite of hate you.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Ma’am? Ma’am?”</p><p class="p1">“Hey.”</p><p class="p1">The elbow to your ribs is what brings you back into the moment, to focus your vision on the name tag of the woman behind the desk, blurry letters spelling out <em>Jessica</em>. You nervously fiddle with the collar of your blouse, the September heat still making you sweat, and you cough, “I’m so sorry, what was the question again?”</p><p class="p1">“I need your personal information first,” she shows you the sheet of paper she’s trying to fill out. “Legal name, registered bloodlines, then date of birth and location of birth.”</p><p class="p1">You give her the requisite details, your name, your parents’ names, and the date you’d come into the world. You have to think for a second, remembering what had been on your government portal the day you’d looked up your flower seed, and then tell her, “I do believe I was born at the Neozone Community Hospital.”</p><p class="p1">While one of her eyebrows shoots up at the mention of the other region’s city, she doesn’t say anything. She just turns a professional glance towards Kyungsoo to ask him next, “And you, sir?”</p><p class="p1">He takes a moment to adjust the pocket square in his blazer, so the smiling moon is visible over the seam, and then he smoothly responds, “My legal name is Kyungsoo Do, I was born January twelfth, at Neozone Central Hospital.”</p><p class="p1">Jessica can’t help the wonder anymore and blurts, “What are two Neozone kids like you doing here in Elyxion?”</p><p class="p1">“Are we not allowed to register our marriage here?” you ask, trying to figure out why she’s so curious about your place of birth. It’s not like there’s always been a total cutoff of travel between the regions. Surely before the border shutdown, they got people from all over Neozone here.</p><p class="p1">“No, you are,” she nods, fingers tapping against the form. “We’re all citizens of Dorado. But from the look of it, you’re from the capital over there. Why would you leave that beautiful place? All those flowers.”</p><p class="p1">That’s a touchy subject, one that you don’t even want to begin to divulge, especially since she does not seem to have a clue who you are. Kyungsoo swoops in to save the day, your hero again, and he lays the charm on thick to do so, “Well, if we hadn’t moved here, we wouldn’t have been married by the most beautiful clerk I’ve ever seen.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, you’re too much,” she squeals in the face of his blatant flirtation, her line of questioning forgotten. “Not in front of your fiancée! How long have you two been together?”</p><p class="p1">“Almost two years, right babe? We met in Pandora, happened to be at the same place at the same time.” He’s in a pretend fantasy land now, spinning the false story with the real details of how you’d met. It’s almost been two years since that November, since happenstance and a botched bloodline interpretation had brought you together.</p><p class="p1">She really doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about, dreamily sighing, “How romantic.”</p><p class="p1">“We had a wild first week of knowing each other, lots of alone time that ended in a moment with handcuffs,” he says in a very seductive tone, a total coverup of the actual horrors you’d experienced. Hearing it from him in this way allows you to look at it almost as a bizarre meet cute, that the only thing that’d happened in the Pandora Building was meeting Kyungsoo and nothing else.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my gosh, you’re making me blush,” Jessica fans at herself, visible tint on her cheeks. She composes herself, then looks back down to the form. “You’re almost done, all you need to do is sign—,” she halts, eyes narrowing as she reads, then she looks back at Kyungsoo, “Wait, sir, you didn’t give me your blood lines.”</p><p class="p1">“Right, I’m sorry about that. My maternal bloodline is through Kyungah Oh, and I’m afraid I don’t know my father’s. It was never recorded for me in my government portal.”</p><p class="p1">She frowns, then flips through a few notebooks on her desk before giving you both an apologetic smile, “Unfortunately, I cannot register the marriage without a complete bloodline history, but we do have facilities on site that can run them for you.”</p><p class="p1">He hadn’t given you many details of the discussion he’d shared with his mother that day at your house, but it’s clear she’d continued to hold on to the truth of his paternity for as long as she could. This is something that doesn’t seem to bother Kyungsoo, because he shrugs and accepts, “Sure, why not. Maybe my father will be famous or something.”</p><p class="p1">Jessica uses her desk phone to call someone, and within minutes there’s a woman in scrubs from the medical facility to retrieve Kyungsoo. He winks at Jessica in thanks, causing her to flush one more time, then he shoots you a thumbs up and disappears with the nurse. You wait in the lobby of the Elyxion Regent’s office, thinking of what Kyungsoo’s mother must’ve been going through during that time. If she’d loved this mystery man, if he wasn’t able to get over the fact they were from different regions. Kyungsoo had said once that he’d never known his father, and that is an unfathomable thing to comprehend.</p><p class="p1">He’s not gone long, maybe fifteen, thirty minutes. He comes strolling along alone without a care and bends over to give you a particularly lascivious kiss in the middle of the empty waiting room. You shove him off you playfully to ask, “What’d they say?”</p><p class="p1">He shows you the bandage across the vein in his left arm, then shakes his head, “No results today, they have to process it at a facility and mail it back to the office tomorrow. We’ll need to come back then to have everything legally bound.”</p><p class="p1">You nod in understanding. Then, his hands go flying to pat at the pockets of his pants, the breast pocket of his undershirt, the pockets in his blazer. He’s forgotten something like his phone, you just know it, you scoot yourself back in your chair to get comfortable, to wait for him to go looking for it.</p><p class="p1">Which is why it’s such a surprise when he pulls out a glittering, silver ring and plops it right into your open palm.</p><p class="p1">“W-what’s this?” you stutter, afraid to move in case that makes the piece of jewelry disappear from your grasp. It’s elegantly understated, like the wedding he’d envisioned you dreaming of, just a thin circle of plated argent, with tiny diamonds embedded in the halo.</p><p class="p1">“Can’t be my wife without a ring,” he murmurs, and you must make a shocked face because he quickly breezes, “stole it from Baekhyun, don’t worry. Wouldn’t waste a penny on you.”</p><p class="p1">He’s a bad liar. You know now this was what he was doing this morning. Prior to heading over to the office building, he’d come back from randomly deciding to buy breakfast instead of making it with a bag in hand. He’d gone out to make sure he had a ring for you. How…. honestly, how cute.</p><p class="p1">You meet his jab with one of your own, “I’m not going to wear a ring. No matter how pretty it is.”</p><p class="p1">“Humor me. Just until we get the papers signed tomorrow.”</p><p class="p1">He fixes you with a coy smirk, self assured to the point of arrogance that you’re going to give in and do as he says. Part of you wants to keep on in refusing, both to prove a point and to prolong the time that that hand stays unmarked. One more second where you allow the sinful indulgence of imagining yourself here with another. But you let the pragmatic part of you take over.</p><p class="p1">“Fine,” you grumble with a half smile. You allow him to place it upon the fourth finger of your left hand, then he dots a kiss right above it. The same healed knuckle he’d crushed before is now bound by his promise to you.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"><em>Bang, bang, bang, bang.</em> Can’t you get one fucking night’s sleep without something rudely waking you up? At least it’s not Baekhyun practicing his runs in the shower like every other day.</p><p class="p1">“God damn, what is that noise?” Kyungsoo mumbles, eyes still closed but face scrunched in discomfort. Hhe throws an arm around you, to pull you in closer, to kiss you on your shoulder, “Just as I was having a particularly fun dream.”</p><p class="p1">You elbow him right in the nose, fully on purpose, “You disgust me.”</p><p class="p1">“Coming, coming!” you can hear Baekhyun’s holler all the way from up here, through the partially closed door. “Hold your damn hor—”</p><p class="p1">A serene voice you think you recognize comes wafting up the stairs, “Hello, Mr. Byun.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, is there something I can help you with, ma’am?”</p><p class="p1">“Is there a Kyungsoo Do at this residence? I have a message for him, brought from Pandora.”</p><p class="p1">If you were still drowsy, all of that is shot away in a hurry, the pair of you sitting bolt upright in the middle of the bed at what the visitor has said. Very quietly, he slips out of the comforter, pulling on his white tee over his pajama pants, and you tiptoe over to where he’s standing, out of view of the crack in the door. Baekhyun never gets visitors, the security at the forefront of his gated community is enough to keep fans and interlopers out, so this woman must be high ranking enough to bypass that protocol.</p><p class="p1">There’s a soft knock on the door, and when Baekhyun’s usually smiling face pops in totally serious, that sets the gooseflesh alight on your neck and arm. “Soo, this lady from Pandora is here to see you.”</p><p class="p1">The three of you stand there for a moment, only staring, unsure of what's about to happen, what the next move is to make. But Kyungsoo blows out a low breath and nods, then turns right to you, “Do not come out.”</p><p class="p1">“Soo—,”</p><p class="p1">His voice is the fiercest you’ve ever heard it to be, “Do not.”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun gave you the first bedroom in the hall, so all you need to do is open the door slightly wider than a crack after Kyungsoo leaves, and you have the perfect view of him in the entryway. Him in the entryway where <em>Taeyeon</em> is waiting for him. You should’ve known. She might be the only person you’ve met who has that calm a voice all the time, but what is she doing here, here at Baekhyun’s home, here in Elyxion’s capital, when she should be in Pandora? And how did she know where to come?</p><p class="p1">“Hello, sorry to keep you waiting,” Kyungsoo greets her with full propriety, but when he offers his hand for a handshake, she forgoes that for a deep bow. You see his nervous scratch against the back of his head, then hear his sheepish, “You don’t need to bow to me.”</p><p class="p1">“As the eldest heir of our esteemed leader Premier Kim, you are to be treated with the respect your station affords you.”</p><p class="p1">You, you’re not quite sure you’ve heard her right. You’re not fully awake, right, this is some kind of comical dream Baekhyun has made up to prank you, right? The loud knocking on the door was him banging in the shower or something? But no, he’s just as confused as you are, listening in even when he probably shouldn’t be, his loud voice now quiet, “Soo, what did she say?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo doesn’t even turn his head to see his friend, he’s rooted to the spot as he gapes at the blonde woman.  Though she must be getting annoyed at the two men’s total lack of understanding, Taeyeon repeats herself again, “That is why we have come, sir. A sample run at the capital laboratory confirmed the match to the Premier’s bloodline. He immediately sent for you.”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">“You are Premier Kim’s son, sir,” she has to spell it out for him in plain phrasing, no nuance or kowtowing. “We are here to escort you to the capital, with great haste.”</p><p class="p1">The spell of dizziness that casts over you is unyielding, dipping beyond nuisance or annoyance. When he’d joked yesterday that his father might be famous, you not once would’ve ever expected Premier Kim to be an option, specifically because of who his mother is. It just doesn’t make sense. It has to be a joke, he can’t go with her now, he can’t.</p><p class="p1">There’s no denial, only a sharp, “Alright,” from Kyungsoo.</p><p class="p1">“Soo, what?” Baekhyun echoes your internal thought, shocked that the other man would cave so easily.</p><p class="p1">“<em>It’s alright</em>,” he hisses harshly to his friend, then mutters in a low voice, with a pointed glance to the door you’re spying behind, “Make sure the blueberries get picked while I’m gone.”</p><p class="p1">The whole encounter has probably taken ten minutes, from the first pounding knock rousing you from your sleep, to now, as you watch Kyungsoo get escorted out of the lake house by Pandora Special Forces guards. The door hasn’t even fully closed before you’re flying out of the room and down the stairs, barely prevented from tripping and sprawling out against the floor on the last step by Baekhyun’s mindful catch.</p><p class="p1">“What do we do?” you mumble, still able to see the Range Rover driving out of the gated community through the crack in the kitchen window’s curtains.</p><p class="p1">He keeps holding you, as the dot of the car gets smaller and smaller in the distance, “As soon as they’re out of the neighborhood, we have to go.”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun doesn’t have to say anymore, you know where you have to go, exactly who you have to tell about the revelation that you’ve just witnessed. He doesn’t blindfold you this time, the route back to your old home is permanently tattooed into your brain. But not even the scene of cityscape dissolving little by little into the protective cover of the forest can calm you.</p><p class="p1">This sort of makes sense, they share the same penchant for political seriousness, they hold themselves with the same practiced ease. They both somehow like the same drink, bourbon, had even both taken the same path into politics. But it just does not jive with the image of his mother that you know, the fact that she is the leader behind an undercover operation supporting Elyxion’s prosperity. Until you get confirmation from her own mouth that the lab tests have been right, you’re going to treat this whole thing as a facetious joke. The Premier’s office is going a bit too far in an effort to overcome the public image of his lack of immediate family.</p><p class="p1">It always feels like you’re making a dramatic entrance back into your home each time you’ve return, and this is no different. After he’s gotten you past the guards by means of his clearance, Baekhyun slams the door open without preamble, causing everyone inside to turn and jump when they see you there.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n?” your father gasps from where he’s sitting over his computer, “what are you doing here?”</p><p class="p1">“Where’s Kyungah?” you blurt, taking no effort to be subtle or explain yourself further.</p><p class="p1">A grey bob emerges from the master bedroom upstairs, followed by a head of black hair and a dozen others. She gives you a soft wave, totally unaware of what you’re about to detonate in this room, “I’m here, honey, what is it?”</p><p class="p1">You really haven’t thought about how you’re going to frame this, which is a mistake, because what she gets is an absolute hodgepodge of confusing nonsense, “We were going to register our marriage with the Regent’s office, to receive the stipend and pass it on to you, but he did not have his paternal bloodline recorded. They did the test for him, and this morning the Chief of Ministers and the Pandora Special Forces showed up at Baekhyun’s door.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungah does not get what you’re saying, her face shows that. She comes down the stairs to put a comforting hand on your arm and try to get you to calm down, “Honey, what?”</p><p class="p1">That only serves to increase your anxiety, sending your breathing to a level of unhealthy hyperventilation that pricks the tears into your eyes. Baekhyun notices you can’t get it together enough to tell the woman what you need to, so he takes the plunge for you,</p><p class="p1">“Kyungsoo is Premier Kim’s son.”</p><p class="p1">In a room full of shocked reactions, the stunned into silences and the laughs of disbeliefs, your father’s pale face, your mother’s hand covering her mouth, there’s only one reaction that matters. When you look back at Kyungah, there is not one morsel of surprise buried in her features, her face that looks so much like her son’s, only resigned acceptance. Like she knew this was coming.</p><p class="p1">“That’s impossible,” Hyungsik scoffs, like you’re both totally crazy. “Are you two just making stuff up?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungah puts her fingers on his arm to quiet him, the small gesture enough to set off a round of buzzed whispering. That’s confirmation, not denial.</p><p class="p1">“It was only once,” she murmurs, wistful to the point it’s as if she’s been plunged right into the past in one go.</p><p class="p1">“Kyungah, are you serious—,”</p><p class="p1">She holds up a hand to silence an angry Hyungsik and continues softly,“My baby sister begged me to visit her her at college, to finally meet the man she was getting serious about. I, of course, went without hesitation, because she’d been there for some time already and I didn’t even know if she was safe there.”</p><p class="p1">Regent Oh and Seulgi are sitting side by side on the couch, papers strewn away in their need to be close to one another. He’s perhaps the most stunned of all, face totally devoid of color, yet he still gives a soft nod for his foster sister to continue. She hefts a large breath before doing so, “It happened that my visit to campus coincided with the old Regent for the Neozone sector of Pandora coming to the campus for a visit. At the time, his chief staffer was a handsome young man named Kyungho.”</p><p class="p1">There’s audible bristling from the room, because there it is, dead for rights. Kyungho Kim, future Premier of Dorado.</p><p class="p1">“Michael was studying political science, so he had to go a lecture Kyungho was giving for extra credit. Because Jeongah was so obsessed with him, she made both of us go along. It was full of shit, about how Taeyong Lee was the pinnacle of aspiration and strength, that war was great, blah blah. Nothing mentioned about how much work he did in Elyxion after it all, the kind of overly confident pro-Neozone stuff that he was able to iron out of his platform after his career developed. I got up in the middle of it and left, and I know he saw me.”</p><p class="p1">“I was newly graduated and Jeongah was still underage, so that meant I was alone at the bar that night when he showed up. I was ready to argue, he was such a cocky bastard. But when he realized I was the one who left, I’m pretty sure that he wasn’t expecting me to… well, look the way I did back then. He bought me a glass of bourbon before I could get anything out. I knew I was still from Elyxion, but when he kissed me, I mean, could you blame me for forgetting?”</p><p class="p1">You, out of everyone here, you really are the one who could least blame her for following her heart in this way. From the moment <em>he</em> made an offhand comment about how it never mattered that Baekhyun was from Elyxion, that was the only thing ever in your head.</p><p class="p1">Kyungah looks run ragged as she’s forced to recall the story, skipping details that you can fill in on your own, no one daring to interrupt the free-flow of the narrative,</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t see him again until I was about to give birth. We happened to cross paths in the city when I went to visit Jeongah again. He begged and begged me to be with him, to raise our child as a couple, but it felt like I was betraying the idea of Exordium by agreeing, especially after that one lecture made it clear how he felt about where he was from.</p><p class="p1">“When Kyungsoo came, I gave him a last name that wouldn’t tie him to either of us, and decided to raise him alone on the outskirts of the city my sister lived in. I wanted to raise him in Oasis, but staying in his father’s city felt like the least I could do in return for keeping his father from him. Only my sister knew about my boy, and I don’t think she ever told Michael. The times I would come back to help were only when she could sneak away to babysit, or when Soo was old enough to be on his own.”</p><p class="p1">“I thought I was going to live in Neozone forever, and then Jeongah disappeared. I knew that it wouldn’t be long until whoever it was came for me too, I couldn’t sit there and do nothing. Soo was about to go to college, it felt like the right decision to make an exit out of his life, in a way where he would blame me and never come looking. That way he would be safe. I waited until he went to XK, then, I came back to Dohun and helped build Exordium to where it is now, in my best effort to erase the guilt I had.”</p><p class="p1">This proud woman has tears tracking down her cheeks by the end of the recollection, the story of her ultimate sacrifice for her son, the child she’d given up not in abandonment but for protection. You can tell that even now, she’s weighed down by the abundance of guilt that’s built up over time, guilt for doing something she perceives as selfish. It doesn’t matter if the other people here are taking the sympathetic stance, even Hyungsik looks gently compassionate towards her now. It’s clear she still views having a moment of weakness with a man she’d liked - a man from the wrong region of the nation - as the worst kind of sin she could’ve committed.</p><p class="p1">A sin you think you might know better than most.</p><p class="p1">But as fast as you see the emotion on her face, it disappears for pragmatism, when she asks you, “Did you say you found out because you were going to register a marriage at the Regent's office?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” you confirm. “But only to receive the Elyxion stipend on Exordium’s behalf. We weren’t able to register it officially because they had to run the blood test.”</p><p class="p1">She places a hand on your shoulder, then slightly turns her gaze in your father’s direction. His jaw clenches when he nods his head back to Kyungah, and then he stands up from his computer to address you, “You’re going to have to go back to Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">“What?!” you, Baekhyun, and Seulgi all gasp at once.</p><p class="p1">You can’t go back, you can’t. This is your home, this is, not there.</p><p class="p1">“Think just a little, sweet pea,” your father beseeches you as he approaches, to replace Kyungah’s hand with his as he holds you, “I don’t know if the Elyxion Regent's office is legally obligated to turn the papers over, but they’ve surely heard that Kyungsoo was there with a woman. If they find you here, if they find out you’ve been here to see us, what do you think will happen?”</p><p class="p1">All their hard work will be crushed in an instant if you’re careless and they discover you in the middle of Elyxion. But if they come looking for you, and you’re back in the house with the white field of flowers, the city you shouldn’t consider yours, maybe that will be deceptive enough.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, do I just go back then?” you ask, a bit dumbly, unsure if you can just waltz back into your old life like nothing had ever happened. It’s been six months, a length of time that felt both like an arresting heartbeat and an endless eternity.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know, I don’t know what’s going to happen. If Kyungho is still the same person, he’s going to make a big spectacle out of this,” Kyungah thinks out loud, then lets the full brunt of her guilt roar back, “I can’t imagine he’s ever been happy that people know he doesn’t have a family, because that’s all he wanted back then.” You can see it now, why he always spent a lot of time with Mark and Jeno, that he’d always looked out for you kids when he visited. You were the surrogates for a family he’d never been able to have.</p><p class="p1">“How are we going to keep this from exploding?” Regent Oh sighs, leaning forward on his elbows as he thinks. “The press will definitely start to dig into who you are, who we are.”</p><p class="p1">“I could do a fanmeet,” Baekhyun raises his hand as he speaks up. “Go over to Neozone, White Limit, Chain City, even to Zero Mile. That’ll be a big news story, we’ll hide it as promo for the new album. It’ll be the perfect cover to get y/n back to Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">“You can’t put yourself in the public eye like this for me,” you whisper, feeling overwhelmed at his selfless decision making on your behalf.</p><p class="p1">It’s a genius idea, as expected from the genius idol himself. But you don’t like it. He’s chosen to involve himself in this cause, a noble thing for him to do, but if any of that happens to leak, he’d be the biggest target in an instant. His celebrity is a blessing and a curse in this situation.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun smiles softly, flicking his fingers through the ends of your shoulder length hair, “He asked me to. <em>Make sure the blueberries get picked while I’m gone</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo. He’s too much.</p><p class="p1">“The two of you can’t go alone. How will we be able to monitor if you’re okay?”</p><p class="p1">You’re assuming Kai and Suho, as members of Baekhyun’s team, will be coming to Neozone as well. But Kyungah means to ask who from the organization will be watching over you. Your eyes scan the room quickly, to pluck out who might be best for that. You don’t want your parents to come, it’d still be too stifling to have them in your house they’ve never been in.You come up with a brilliant idea in its place.</p><p class="p1">You point over to the couches, at your new friend, “Seulgi can come too. It’ll look less weird if I show up with someone who’s my age, that I’ve met before.” The subtle hint behind her going back to Neozone with you is not lost on Seulgi, and she blushes behind the curtain of her hair. You turn back to Kyungah and you assert firmly,“And now that we both know about that phone, we can always be in contact. You will have an ally in Neozone again. I trust you to take care of the rest.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll go back to the capital without Hyungsik,” she announces out of nowhere, mind made up. “And try to see Kyungho.”</p><p class="p1">“No,” you and your father say at the same instant as Dohun does, scrambling up from the couch. Kyungsoo is past thirty, she hasn’t seen his father in that amount of time, and is choosing this delicate, dangerous moment to do so.</p><p class="p1">“He is my son,” she states, icy and resolute. “I just got him back. They can’t take him from me again.”</p><p class="p1">You look Kyungah in the eyes, the mother of your almost husband, and surrender it all to her. She grasps your forearm, middle finger tapping against your skin like you once saw Dohun and Michael do. You return the favor, sealing your allegiance to the cause. Then, it’s off to make plans for your travels, Hyungsik trails behind her after he repeats the arm hold gesture with you.</p><p class="p1">They’re arranging it all themselves, for Exordium's greatest advantage. After a few moments of trying to listen in you lose the capacity to do so and instead glance out the window.The fluttering breeze is coaxing the navy and white of the Elyxion flag to dance with it. It’s hard to look at the tree symbol knowing just what kind of pain it’s brought about you, in the form of a pin, in the form of a belt buckle.</p><p class="p1">“Why’d you make me sew that?” you ask quietly, once you smell your mother’s lavender perfume enter into your proximity.</p><p class="p1">“You always wanted to sew with me,” she hums in return, something you can’t deny, “this was just one of those things we couldn’t explain the reality of.”</p><p class="p1">“You should stop using it.”</p><p class="p1">“Why? The Tree of Life has long been a symbol of Elyxion’s prosperity, even before it was used as a communication device during the Growl Conflict. It’s supposed to represent the unmoving strength of my nation’s family tree, how the roots of our history have built us to where we are now.”</p><p class="p1">In any other instance, you would’ve found the story moving. Perhaps you would've found the reasoning behind Elyxion using a tree — much like the tall oaks in your backyard — as its national symbol more beautiful than the flowers in Neozone. But the phrasing somehow hurts, your mother saying <em>my nation</em>, and the consequences that tumble from it.</p><p class="p1">“It’s pretty much a sacrilegious icon back… home,” you answer, with little mustered emotion, “those men were wearing it, I’m sure you know.”</p><p class="p1">It’s not hard to miss the way she winces after your halting use of the phrase <em>home</em> to describe Neozone. And that’s very quickly replaced with your mother’s concerned face, at your willing mention of the events you had been through. All that sterility is gone from her voice, leaving behind only urgency, “Listen to me. It might be manipulative to view it in this way, but I have done all I did to create a future where you can live your happiest days.”</p><p class="p1">Yes, looking at it from the lens of objectivism, you can see the steps she’s taken in ensuring your safety. Even before you existed, she’s tried to create a country where you would not have to hide yourself away in the middle of the forest if you were to fall in love with someone from the wrong region, like she did. You’ll hold your resentment for the lack of explanation, for her sudden departure, for some time. But you cannot deny that she’s exchanged what could’ve been a good life for her, for the whisper of hope that she could create a perfect one for you. The fact that you’ve already experienced enough hardship to never have a perfect life is not a failure on her part, but on yours.</p><p class="p1">You nod, with solemnity and understanding, and offer her what you think she’d like to hear, “I appreciate that. Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">Finally, the range of motherly emotion attacks her, and she grips your arms tightly, imploring face branding right into your vision, “No, y/n, listen to me. You cannot squander that away. Be smart with what you do.”</p><p class="p1">“Mom, I—,”</p><p class="p1">When she hugs you, you’re wrapped in her arms to the point where you cannot reach out and return the embrace. You let her take the time to fill you up with warmth. There’s nothing like this, getting a hug from your mother, you can feel the cloud of your existence dissipating into sunshine. You get to live as a ray of the beautiful sun for only one second before you’re struck in the chest with her severe words, “I know your heart, I know you loved that little boy. But you cannot gamble with your life now like you did then. If you died, I would too.”</p><p class="p1">All you can think about during the ride back to Neozone, back to the city you haven’t seen in months, is that her phrasing had more unintended foreshadowing than you would’ve liked to hear.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SURPRISE WE'RE HEADING HOME FOLKS, WHAT COULD THIS POSSIBLY MEAN? AND KSOO IS WHAT????????</p><p>thanks, as always, for reading. xo, drop your thoughts if you want i respond to everything!</p><p>Ariana Grande, The Weeknd - off the table https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvndP8di-Uw&amp;ab_channel=ArianaGrandeVevo (from her new album! so good! and fits this perfectly!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. stellaria media</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The sly glance Baekhyun shoots you is overwhelming in its devilishness, especially against the backdrop of his aesthetic, “We’re on a break right now, but some fan who wants to meet you is backstage.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>idk if u guys knew this but i'm from the us and im freaking out about the election so im posting this to keep my mind off of it... come read and comment and say hi and keep me occupied lol!</p><p>that and i really think this chapter is going to stir up some drama ;)</p><p> </p><p>Dorado map - ibb.co/S5VfGDD</p><p>Family tree of some of the characters, as requested - https://ibb.co/1XtfGPN</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You may as well be the one standing upon the stage right now, with the way it feels like you’ve been at the center of everything awful that’s occurred in this life.</p><p class="p1">However, your existence has been filled with infamy, not celebrity, so perhaps you should be sent to the stockade instead of being placed in a seat of exalting honor. That might be the only gesture powerful enough to punish the guilt that’s been frothing in you since returning to Neozone. The guilt is borne out of the caustic thought that you’d had on arrival — that you shouldn’t have ever left Elyxion. It comes across like a stark betrayal, to seek the protection of a region that still holds so much negative connotation for you. But the lack of anticipated comfort from returning home is so much worse.</p><p class="p1">At least one of the two of you here in the green room is not mired in said punitive thoughts. Seulgi can’t sit still, bouncing on the luxurious chaise they’ve provided, half wrapped up in the thrill of it all, half letting the nerves run free in her voice, “I can’t believe I’m actually here.”</p><p class="p1">It feels like it was just yesterday you were here in Neozone’s Opera House with Michael and Mark, when the New York Symphony had come on their tour your last year of high school. That’s all the reminiscing you’ve allowed yourself to do since being back, a tall, tall feat you’re surprised you’ve pulled off so far. You’ve conveniently forgotten the round of hyperventilation you’d had to keep at bay this morning — which came when you’d put on the tee you’d made for Baekhyun’s crew during the drive over, white with his lollipop logo embroidered right on the pocket.</p><p class="p1">You lean back on the couch to give the appearance like it’s no big deal for you, “You’ll get used to it. This city is nothing special.”</p><p class="p1">You shouldn’t try to keep track of your lies anymore, your ledger of tallies will overflow before you know it.</p><p class="p1">“Can’t wait to run into someone who knows I’m not from Neozone,” Seulgi mutters, nerves starting to overpower the excitement. “They don’t seem to care when it’s a celebrity.”</p><p class="p1">As if to punctuate her comment, there’s a very audible series of shrieks from the fans who have finished their autograph signings, <em>“Ahhh, oh my god, I can’t believe I’m here with Baekhyun!” “Baekhyun, I love you so much!” “Baekhyun, please marry me!”</em></p><p class="p1">Baekhyun’s Elyxion roots had been the only reason you’d looked him up in the first place, too curious about why someone like him could be so universally adored. Michael had told you to hide that part of you away, a part that turned out so much more meaningful than you’d ever anticipated, because you hadn’t had the perk of celebrity.</p><p class="p1">“They never do,” you reply, experiencing the full heft of bitterness. But she doesn’t pick up on your mood, only peering into the vanity and re-tying up her bun. You point it out, “That is the fourth time you’ve fixed your hair. It looks fine.”</p><p class="p1">She doesn’t even shoot you a disparaging look at your comment, instead letting her anxiety fully take over, “What if he’s here?” You know. If Yuta’s here, that means you have to rip the band aid off and contemplate your return to Neozone with the stark seriousness of your glued-together heart. And you’re just not ready for that yet.</p><p class="p1">“He won’t be,” you reassure her as much as you’re reassuring yourself. “I know that for sure. He likes country music, I don’t think I ever saw him singing along to Baek when we played his CDs.”</p><p class="p1">“I know, but still,” Seulgi lets a small, self aware grin across her face, and you reach to clasp her hand across the space between you.</p><p class="p1">“We’ve only been here for two days. We’ll see him when we can,” you promise, knowing that it’s going to happen, and knowing you’re going to have to make it happen if it doesn’t. “Just sit back and listen to the crazy people.”</p><p class="p1">Like your words are an irresistible siren call, the door of the green room swings open. In skips Baekhyun, like literally <em>skips</em>, which does not at all compute with what he’s wearing right now. With his black hair styled up off his forehead, the smoky eye surrounding his eyes, and his cropped shirt-that-doesn’t-count-as-a-shirt on, he looks like sin incarnate, like he shouldn’t be skipping around and grinning at you goofily like he is.</p><p class="p1">Seulgi laughs and points at the intruder, “That crazy person?”</p><p class="p1">“I need to borrow Soo’s girl for a second, Slug. Be right back,” Baekhyun hollers as he leans over to snatch you up by the wrist and yank you out of the green room. Even as you splutter in indignation and stumble trying to catch up with his fast pace, he doesn’t let go of his grip on you, only tugging you along and then looping your hand through his elbow.</p><p class="p1">“What is that all about,” you grumble as you walk through the bowels of the backstage area.</p><p class="p1">The sly glance Baekhyun shoots you is overwhelming in its devilishness, especially against the backdrop of his aesthetic, “We’re on a break right now, but some fan who wants to meet you is backstage.”</p><p class="p1">“Me? What the fuck?”</p><p class="p1">“Well not you, your work,” Baekhyun clarifies, then pops his fingers against the red detailing around his exposed neck, “They went all funny in the head when they saw this, so I told them that my stylist made it.”</p><p class="p1">“So, I’m your stylist now?” you gripe, baring your teeth in an expression of mock displeasure.</p><p class="p1">“What else could I say? I couldn’t say my best friend’s not girlfriend-wife-person,” he whines, sticking his tongue out after he’s made his point. “You know I don’t usually do this kind of thing, but their shirt looks like you could’ve made it or something.”</p><p class="p1">In the years that you spent denying peoples’ requests, there were many attempts made in recreating your work, most of them wildly unsuccessful. You don’t even try to hide your eye roll, “Oof, probably a copycat. I didn’t make that many shirts for people.”</p><p class="p1">“Just for the people you love most, right?” Baekhyun brags, puffing out his chest. You chuckle at his brash, but correct assumption. He shrugs as you round the corner, “Oh well, just say hi and then leave, sorry for bothering you.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s whatever.” You’re not mad, it’s probably a fan who’s come a long way, not anyone who could possibly know you. You practically have to shout with the way the noise level raises once you step into the dimmed lighting of the offstage area. “Let’s see what kind of shitty work we’ve got here—,”</p><p class="p1">But from that peak decibel, your voice evaporates into the lurid rays of the sun before you. You should’ve known. You should’ve fucking known.</p><p class="p1">The chance of someone owning a bootleg pales in comparison to the chance that a real creation of yours would show up here — a nondescript shirt that you should’ve otherwise repressed, a plain grey tee with its hem tattooed in hypnotizing, kaleidoscopic black detailing. But no, you remember buying the shirt on a shopping trip with Mark, the request tucked in the back of your mind. You probably still have the design sketches stuffed somewhere, and of course you recall every single fucking stitch and the gall behind the request, <em>it’s Earth Day, I think I need something new for my wardrobe.</em></p><p class="p1">You can’t be sure if you’ve clawed all the way through Baekhyun’s soft arm or not. With the way you’re anchoring your hold to his, you’re suddenly grateful he’d taken your hand to lead you out of the green room, the green room you should’ve stayed tucked into. You glance down to Baekhyun’s shirt, that may as well be a fraternal twin creation of the person’s before you. You see the braided borderline of scarlet thread you’d patterned by his open chest, and know it’s only a matter of seconds before you drag both of you down right to the ground in your dramatic shock.</p><p class="p1">Because here, here at this fan meet, here backstage, here in a shirt that you’ve made for him and clutching a signed poster of Baekhyun's face, is Jaehyun.</p><p class="p1">You should’ve fucking known.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun can’t find a damn word to say, overwhelmed into passive submission at your sudden appearance. It’s not like you can judge him for that reaction though, because you think you’re doing the same. You think. You can’t exactly pick up on any sort of sensation in your body, not your overwrought heartbeat, nor your labored breathing, only the dull, dull throb of your left hand.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun looks to you, then to Jaehyun, back to you, back to Jaehyun, and his confusion comes out, “Do you two know each other?”</p><p class="p1">There’s only one way to play this and come out victorious.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah!” You don’t think you’ve ever used this kind of tone, saccharinely sweet, misplaced in its enthusiasm, fully and devastatingly sarcastic, “He used to be my neighbor. Funny coincidence, huh?”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun nods, finding this nothing more than entertaining happenstance. <em>Neighbor</em> is the kind of term Jaehyun surely never thought you’d describe him with, if the look he dares to let cross his face is any indication. Like he wasn’t expecting your reunion to go in this way at all. Point: you.</p><p class="p1">“Byun, they need you again!” Suho calls, then waves with much excitement when he sees you there.</p><p class="p1">You can’t ignore him, because he’s your friend and it’d be rude to, so you give your close relationship with Baekhyun away fully by waving back at his manager. Jaehyun’s eyes go everywhere at once, to Suho, to Baekhyun, to Baekhyun’s collar, to the pocket of your shirt, back up to your face, and you’re sure that’s enough context for him to put it together. You can tell he’s simply dying to know how you’ve come into the inner circle of the singer he’s loved for some time, but he isn’t privileged enough to get that story.</p><p class="p1">“Cool, well, duty calls. Have fun catching up!” Baekhyun chirps, and like he’s personally stabbing you in the back, he removes your fingers from within his elbow to get back to greeting his fans.</p><p class="p1">Then, there’s no help for you, you’re tugged into the riptide of an endless extension of impossible infinities.</p><p class="p1">It’s as if the seconds have passed into a new ice age, with the way Jaehyun seems to be frozen into your remembrance. His hair is still that reliable, curly golden brown, his dimples haven’t disappeared by some act of grace, his amber eyes haven’t faded into dullness.The distance in time and space between you two has only served to exacerbate that misery that only he can induce, the fact that feeling hasn’t changed probably means that <em>nothing else </em>has changed, either.</p><p class="p1">But you must look so vastly different from what he’s expecting, because the first wisp of his silvery voice you get is only a stuttered, “You, y-your hair.” There’s a pointed note in his deliverance that makes you want to gather up your shorn ends, stuff them into your cap and push the brim further down over your face, the urge rising when he can’t control the tremble, “L-looks nice.”</p><p class="p1">“Thanks,” you keep your response curt, flash him the same kind of subdued, polite face you’d give to say, the man who’d towed your car, or the officer that lets you cross the street by the mansion.That’s it, you’re turning on your heel to go back through the door you came in from, perfectly pleased at your lack of response and control of the urge to do who knows what.</p><p class="p1">However, Jaehyun has to go and ruin it, with the tentatively desperate way he calls after you, “Where are you going?”</p><p class="p1">“Back to the green room,” you answer without deigning him a turn back. But it’s no use, he’s determined, walking right up to where you’re headed and blocking your path with his frame.</p><p class="p1">“Shouldn’t we….” he takes longer than necessary to find what he wants to say, a soft, “talk?”</p><p class="p1">It is such a panic inducing word that you have half a mind to run right on that stage and beg Baekhyun to save you. But you can’t, that’d ruin everything for him, ruin the plan. You force yourself to swallow that panic, and transform it into something so thick, so rude, “What do we even have to talk about anymore, please tell me.”</p><p class="p1">There’s nothing left here, all of this is meaningless drivel. There’s no place for him within the bounds of you anymore, he’s squandered that opportunity himself.</p><p class="p1">He takes a step closer to you, and his voice goes even lower than you thought it could, “You’ve been gone for six months—,”</p><p class="p1">You turn your gaze away out of habit, eyes forced almost shut in avoidance of how pleading his face must look right now. But that’s the lesser of two evils you should’ve picked, because you should’ve known that with Jaehyun comes Mimi. Mimi, who’s craning her neck past the lighting director to try and see who her fiancé is talking to. There’s no way she knows who you are, you’d been low key in your appearance to the point Yunho barely recognized you at your arrival at the mansion, but this is too comically painful not to make a snarky comment about.</p><p class="p1">You really thought this time away would’ve washed your slate clean, but you know that your last conversation about the girl had been brimming with uncontrolled vitriol, to the point where you thought a brawl was going to break out. There’s no reason for holding back now, just because you’ve returned to town doesn’t mean your paths will align again, you’ll make sure of it. So, you’ll let him know. You’ll inform of just how much of an asshole he is, just how awful it is that you know he remembers that night, that he treats it like an inconsequential circumstance that’d befallen him.</p><p class="p1">“Your fiancée is looking this way, trying to figure out who I am,” you say through your teeth, in case Mimi is trying to read lips, too. And it’s no holds barred with the way you dig in to give it to him with full vitriol, “Or is it wife now? Do you want to talk about that?”</p><p class="p1">His wince shoots right through his body, but he offers no apology, only groaning, “Come on, y/n…”</p><p class="p1">You would’ve given him a chance to get out of this unscathed, if he’d lowered himself to the point of looking remorseful, or given you some kind of otherwise hint that he’d regretted what he’d done. You’d take regret over pathetic indifference. You win the match point by a savage blow, perhaps to the head, but more to the heart, in the combination of your brisk exit past him with your harsh barb,</p><p class="p1">“Glad to see nothing’s changed.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’re glad Michael had managed to get Yunho and Heechul to come out of their sabbaticals to take care of you when he’d offered up his mansion as a place for you to stay. That way it’s not so harrowing when Heechul, and not a stranger, appears and bows before giving his news, “Ma’am, you have a visitor.”</p><p class="p1">So many instances of pain have been brought about by that phrase, but not this time. This time it only brings about a familiar face, surely heard the news from Mark that you’d be staying in his old home for some time. His appearance is the first iota of relief you’ve allowed yourself to experience, the small ponytail of his now long, silver hair the first thing to confirm that time had actually passed.</p><p class="p1">Yuta cannot take another step inside the lounge until he chokes out, “Is that really you, y/n, please tell me I’m not making things up.”</p><p class="p1">You once promised him that you would see each other again, and you are thankful that hadn’t been made in vain. You nod, already tearful, “It’s me, Yu, it’s me.”</p><p class="p1">He leaps over the ottoman in his efforts to get to you with haste, his body colliding with yours in a long-awaited embrace, his comforting presence finally calming you down into a state of placidity. It’s still him, unfailing in his dedication to keep you in an idyllic reality. He still holds your hand as you both sit on the couch, will not let it go as he tries to convince himself this is actually happening, “You called me from god knows where just the other day and now you’re here, this is unbelievable.”</p><p class="p1">You shoot him a wry smile that he will get, “A lot of shit has happened to get me to this point.”</p><p class="p1">“You and me both, stuff you wouldn’t believe,” he blows out in a breath. It’s then that you pick up on his anxiousness, how he keeps glancing to the door where Heechul is hovering by, how his knee won’t let up on its incessant bouncing. “I’m not saying this in any way to blame you, but…”</p><p class="p1">“But what.”</p><p class="p1">“John and I got into big, big trouble when people found out you were gone,” he reveals, dropping his voice so that even Heechul can’t hear.</p><p class="p1">You ruin his hard work by literally yelping, “You what?! John didn’t even know until you told him!”</p><p class="p1">“Well, I got into official trouble with the military post, they saw it as me neglecting my duties,” Yuta doesn’t seem that bothered with the punishment he’d received for helping you, another stroke of his loyalty. “I explained to Father why I did what I did, and he managed to get me out of their planned suspension. You were already gone so I basically just had to lie low at home. John wasn’t so lucky.”</p><p class="p1">Your heart seizes into oblivion, too many horrific unknowns apparating into your mind with his lack of elaboration. “Please just say it straight, I can’t take it otherwise.”</p><p class="p1">“He and his dad have been out at Zero Mile since the week you left, with the other military bigwigs. I'm not sure if the actual troops are there, but they’ve had meetings after meetings apparently. Father’s been going back and forth when they summon him.John just stays in his room without leaving.”</p><p class="p1">Zero Mile? That had been just over the border from where you were only last week, but you hadn’t been able to spot anything out of the ordinary through the forest. Your parents, Hyungsik, and Kyungah seemed none the wiser that action was starting to brew across the way, beyond the pending release of your investigation’s results.</p><p class="p1">“There’s been no official announcement as to why they’ve been meeting, or at least as far as Father knows,” Yuta answers your unspoken question, then his brow furrows with confusion, “Where were you this whole time that you didn’t know any of this was going on?”</p><p class="p1">You can’t lie about this, not to him, not with what’s going on. You can only force out the truth, “I was in Elyxion.”</p><p class="p1">“You were what?!” Yuta gasps. You’re surprised Mark hadn’t let that one slip, considering he was the only one of your friends who knew your actual whereabouts during your time away.</p><p class="p1">“I lived in their capital. I didn’t hear a single thing about this.” You and Kyungsoo always watched the news over dinner, and it seemed like life as usual was proceeding on in the region, with no mention of any rising animosity with Neozone.</p><p class="p1">He runs a hand through the hair that’s fallen loose from his topknot and lets out another hefty sigh, “I mean, I don’t think they were planning on announcing any of it, but the news here has been blaring either straight up pro-Neozone nonsense or speeches by Regent Jung for some time now. It’s rumored your investigation’s findings… are not pleasantly favored towards them.”</p><p class="p1">“What do you know?” you ask in haste, this being outside confirmation of the news Kyungah and Hyungsik had managed to snatch up while they were in the capital.</p><p class="p1">He shakes his head once before divulging, “Supposedly they found confirmatory evidence of an Elyxion conspiracy to blackmail Michael. But I don’t know any details of why or who set it up and neither does Father.”</p><p class="p1">“Well I could’ve told you as much, I guess.” That’s not news to you. The statement the thugs had forced you to read on camera was enough to clue you in on their attempt at blackmail. But you’d never been able to figure out what they were asking Michael for, or why they decided to target him and his sons in that way.</p><p class="p1">“Anyways, it’s been bizarro world,” Yuta says with a short laugh, trying to move past the topic you want to stay on. “John gone, Mark gone, you gone. I felt like I knew what Jaehyun’s dad was doing more than what he was. Which I guess makes sense considering how little I saw him.”</p><p class="p1">This is why you didn’t want him changing the subject and giving you emotional whiplash. “What?”</p><p class="p1">“You’re not the only one who went off the grid,” Yuta shakes your emotions back and forth with no regard. “Everything was surprisingly fine for a bit but his blos—,”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, there you are—,” Seulgi interrupts right in the middle of his explanation, then her face comically falls apart when she sees who you’re with. “Yuta?”</p><p class="p1">This is a movie scene borne to perfection, the strand of her light brown hair falling into her face, Yuta springing up from the couch as he registers her presence there, how their cheeks both turn the same shade of rose red. How Yuta can’t take his eyes off her, even as his mouth murmurs to you, “Y/n, you’re playing a joke on me now.”</p><p class="p1">Your heart is aflutter in your chest, you can’t help the giggle that bursts from you, “I’m surprised you were surprised that I was in Elyxion. I told you on the phone that I was with the girl you were writing all those letters to.”</p><p class="p1">He finally tears his gaze off of Seulgi to gape at you, “Yeah, I called back and left a message asking you if you were pranking me! Then you never responded!”</p><p class="p1">You’ll take responsibility for that one, it wasn’t his fault his message had been buried behind another’s, wasn’t his responsibility that the silvery words preceding his had extinguished all desire out of you to listen to his response. But while the hand of affection had crushed you thoroughly, it’d brought these two people together, these two people who are currently grinning at each other like lovesick fools.</p><p class="p1">“Well, don’t let me keep you apart any more, Romeo and Juliet,” you tease, waggling your eyebrows right at the pair of them before you let yourself out of the room to give them some privacy.</p><p class="p1">As you meander around the marble columns, the gold vases lining the way devoid of tulips as they have been for some time now, you’re lost in a specific fantasy. What if that regional divide had never existed? Would the three of you have grown up together? Would Yuta have taken her to prom instead of you, would he have aspired to go to college with her? Would he never have had the need to put aside his own feelings for yours, would Seulgi have been able to reply to a stack of lovely letters?</p><p class="p1">They’ve waited years for this point, too caught up in political nonsense that never should’ve played a role in their lives in the first place. You are all just twenty somethings, living analogous lives across an imaginary red line that some old men made. That shouldn’t have stopped you from fulfilling your planned inevitabilities. You’re proof enough of this, half Neozone, half Elyxion, already ravaged to the point of no return by the conflict.</p><p class="p1">No much later, Seulgi walks out of the room on her own, face buried into her hands in what is sure to be mortified excitement. You’re convinced the return trip was at least somewhat worthwhile when she peeks at you between her fingers and whispers, “Oh my gosh.”</p><p class="p1">“I know,” you grin, having a good grasp on what kind of an effect Yuta can have on a girl. “But before you tell me the gossip, we have to talk about the news.”</p><p class="p1">This is the reminder that that red line is still there, that you, two girls that should only gossip about the latest boy problems, are deferring to political speak first. You glance up and down the hallway to make sure you’re alone, then pass on what your former bodyguard had told you, “Apparently, the military hotshots are gathered in Zero Mile. No troops, but lots of meetings.”</p><p class="p1">Her romantic flush is overtaken by an expression of total shock, “Zero Mile is right by Exordium headquarters.”</p><p class="p1">“That can’t be by coincidence. Zero Mile is fucking tiny,” you say, grim at the thought that you can’t figure out what they’re doing. “Plus corroboration from this end that they’re planning on releasing the investigation findings soon.”</p><p class="p1">“Nothing beyond what we already know?”</p><p class="p1">“No, nothing.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, I’ll call Papa right now,” Seulgi starts to leave and head back to the room Yunho had designated for her to stay in.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, nuh uh, not so fast,” you catch her arm before she can go too far and fix her with a sly gaze, “You asked for a girl friend and now you have one, so spill.” From boys to politics back to boys, you’re the epitome of multifaceted women that you can have these sort of nuanced discussions.</p><p class="p1">Nuanced in the way that Seulgi pauses for a moment, then literally squeals, “I asked him out!”</p><p class="p1">“Finally….” you grumble good naturedly, feeling pride that Yuta and Seulgi had both managed to get their shit together, especially with her taking initiative.You hate that you have to say what comes out next, “I’m very happy you finally get to go out with my friend. But I think you know what else you need to do that night.”</p><p class="p1">Though you lift your eyebrow in subtle explanation, Seulgi is smart enough to not need it to understand your meaning. Sure, she’s getting to go on a date with the man that she’s been enamored with for some time now, but she can’t let this opportunity go to waste. If there are any details you haven’t been able to draw out from him, that she thinks he may be hiding, she’ll need to put in some work as well. You trust Yuta enough to assume that that won't be the case, but there's no reason to let any of your guard down.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t think a man is going to make me question my loyalty. I’ll get what we need,” she fiercely states, and you don’t doubt that she’s telling the truth. The fierceness melts away into excitement as she asks, “Anyways, do you know some place called Sun and something….? I’m not sure.”</p><p class="p1">“Sun &amp; Moon?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, that’s the one. He suggested it first.”</p><p class="p1">Oh, Yuta, you cad. He’s bringing out the big guns for this one. You can’t even hide your laugh at the idea of your ice prince friend going all moony over the woman in front of you. The light giggling continues into your question, “Did you bring any nice dresses here?”</p><p class="p1">“No, why?” she asks, curious and still confused, catching up on all the Neozone knowledge she doesn’t have.</p><p class="p1">“Sun &amp; Moon is the city’s only Michelin Star restaurant,” is what you tell her, and she can fill in the rest for herself.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” she gasps, a hand flying to her forehead in stressed dismay. “Oh my god, I only brought athletic clothes!”</p><p class="p1">You put a hand on hers to calm her panicking down, to smile softly and offer, “I’ve got something at home I can pick up for you. I think you’ll look good in it.”</p><p class="p1">You’ll stand by this opinion, that Sun &amp; Moon’s most star-worthy quality is the swooning drama that it induces when you’re there at the right time of day, with the right person, wearing the right thing. Yuta will surely get a reservation right when the incandescent September sun will be dipping low into the sky, and it’s more than clear that they are meant for each other in ways you can’t comprehend from your outside look in.</p><p class="p1">All that’s left is a dress for her to wear. You’ve gone from a girl who owned only a poofy prom gown to a woman who owns many of them. But there is only one dress, spun out of the magic of your own hands, that could ever evoke a feeling incomparable to anything else. That would match the inaugural, romantic night spent with a person held within the confines of your heart. You’d like someone else to experience that, at least for one night, because it is truly unforgettable.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Stepping through the door of your old house, it’s as if you’ve been cleansed with the purity of innocence, sending you right back to the day you walked into this place for the first time.</p><p class="p1">You were surprised the key even worked when you fit it into the lock, sure Changmin would’ve tried to repossess the property for double the profit when he found out it was likely you weren’t returning. It was already so bizarre that there were no guards up here, but finally returning to your providence — the one place that hasn’t made you feel like you’re transported into a graveyard the moment you arrive — is such a strange experience.</p><p class="p1">Much like you’ve felt the past week, the hand of time has frozen itself over this place. The bluebells on the mantle above your sink are still vibrantly blue, perhaps the most shocking thing of all, as you were sure that they would’ve withered away in your absence. They match the blue ceramic mug you take out of your bag and place up there, the un-blossomed vessel now nestled in a perfect, complementary location beside the blooms. Beyond that, your shoes are still stacked onto the rack, your picture frames are still neatly lined up by the window, the window still gives way to the most spectacular view.</p><p class="p1">And as they always have, the tiny white stellaria are still blossoming in your yard, under the creamsicle sunset’s light.</p><p class="p1">You don’t have to take yourself upstairs to find the dress for Seulgi. It’s still right there on your ottoman where Kyungsoo had left it, after he’d taken the time to neatly fold it after lewdly ripping it off you. Perhaps you should wash it and just gift it to her. Better for it to have a loving, new home, than to stay wasting away in this one. Odd, that a dress could be such a perfect metaphor for you, but you’re not surprised by much these days.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n?”</p><p class="p1">It’s total irony, that the thought of not being surprised causes you to miss the click of the lock, the subtle creak of the door. Which then leads to you screaming at the top of your lungs when you see that you’re not alone,“Agh! Jaehyun! What the actual fuck!”</p><p class="p1">There is your neighbor, red-faced in his running clothes, his right shoe halfway off. He holds his arms out in defense, to show you that he’s not an intruder, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you at all. I should’ve seen that your light was on.”</p><p class="p1">You’re still shaking at his jolting intrusion, you can only think to blurt the first thing that comes to mind, “Have you spent the last six months breaking into my home?”</p><p class="p1">“No!” he immediately exclaims, knowing the optics of this comes across very creepy. “It’s not breaking in when you were the one who gave me the spare key!”</p><p class="p1">After he’d literally broken down your door after the anniversary of Jeno’s passing, you’d felt a sheepish obligation to make him a copy of your key. Only so he didn’t have to pay for the door to be re-hinged in case of a next incident and nothing more than that. He’s been out for his daily jog, but it makes no sense that he’s run all the way up here from downtown, that he’s come into your house without a care, especially after your encounter at Baekhyun’s fan sign.</p><p class="p1">You narrow your eyes at him and ask, “What are you doing up here anyways?”</p><p class="p1">“I live here!” Jaehyun’s eyes dart to the window in your kitchen, towards the uninhibited line of sight you have right to the structure he used to inhabit. Key phrase there, <em>used to.</em></p><p class="p1">“No, you don’t,” you sneer. “Weren’t you supposed to move?”</p><p class="p1">“I—,”</p><p class="p1">You cut him off before he has the chance to churn out one of his pathetic excuses, “Yep, you were. Your father tried to make an offer for the house if I remember correctly, which you know I do.” You’ll see through any lie of his immediately, knowing the keen feel of what that realization had slashed into you. The assumption that you’d never experience certain happiness again. He was going to move, he was going to.</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t move.” Jaehyun drives a shard of an unidentifiable substance right into your chest with his revelation. The instinct is unbridled joy, that he’s managed to stay in the place where you feel like he belongs. Which is quickly followed by regret, that you’d been foolish enough to run away in haste and not let fate play its hand. But what you settle on is extreme distaste, because the circumstances are too suspect. </p><p class="p1">“Nice,” you deadpan with teeming cynicism, “great to know he was cool with you living up here once I was gone.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s not like that…” he mumbles, but his awkward hand coming to rub at the back of his neck gives it all away. It doesn’t take much for you to fill in the blanks.</p><p class="p1">“Then please explain it so kindly to me, Jaehyun,” you sneer as you walk towards him. He’s bigger than you, but there’s no way he doesn’t find you threatening right now. “Please explain why he always seemed to hate you living up here while I also lived up here, and the moment I moved away he apparently did not seem to care?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s father had always disguised it under the cover that Mrs. Jung would like to have their only child living closer to their home, but you’d read him for his rights every time. How could you be up here with that girl, with one of Michael’s strays, with a freeloader, with someone too lowly to be in his golden son’s presence. And even though there’s no way he could’ve known, you could practically hear his hidden scream, <em>how could you be up here with a girl from Elyxion, Jaehyun? How could you? </em></p><p class="p1">He has enough sense to be embarrassed on behalf of his father, and blusters, “It was never because of you!”</p><p class="p1">Lie.</p><p class="p1">But you’ll give him the tentative benefit of the doubt and see how he digs his way out of this, “Okay, say I choose to believe you in this instance. What about literally every other encounter I’ve ever had with him, then?”</p><p class="p1">It wasn’t just the house. Regent Jung had always been bothered by fact that Michael loved you, that you’d been a cautious guardian over Jeno, annoyed that you’d integrated yourself into his son’s friend group, that you’d been late to official events now and then as a direct symptom of your grief. All things petty and serious, Mr. Jung had truly never taken the time to peer past the murky waters of your surface and see the clarity of the feelings you’d held.</p><p class="p1">“I never shared any of his opinions, y/n, I never, ever did,” Jaehyun professes, quiet but honest. But it’s not an answer, it’s information that you already knew, and it’s about as much as you can handle.</p><p class="p1">You take a moment, to screw your eyes shut and suck in a breath to keep from absolutely losing your shit at him. But in the time from your eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks and them opening back up again, Jaehyun’s somehow plucked a glass from your drying rack and filled it with water. The nerve of him, to act like it’s somehow still peachy for him to be in here.</p><p class="p1">“What are you doing,” you ask, but it comes out half shrouded with this building anger.</p><p class="p1">The flowerpot closest to him has a small aloe plant snuggled into the dirt. He takes the glass over and drapes the greenery in the clear liquid. The gesture tells you, but he says it anyways, “Watering your flowers.”</p><p class="p1">“Why the fuck are you doing that?” you spit out, trying to keep the anger building when it’s replaced by a different, unacceptable feeling. That’s all you can do, hate him and hope it works. “They’re my flowers! Mine!”</p><p class="p1">He hesitates for a second, glass still in hand, then pours another boule of water over the hydrangeas by your cutting boards, muttering, “Mr. Lee asked me to, chill the fuck out.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re literally such a goddamn liar. Like Michael would ask you to come here to <em>water my plants!” </em>You’re cursing at him like you’ve always wanted to, so insulted by the fact that he’s tried this excuse, knowing just how much Mark’s father means to you, knowing that it sounds exactly like something he’d do.</p><p class="p1">“He did!”</p><p class="p1">“Fuck off, dude!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun roughly grabs your arm at your attempt to knock the glass out of his hand, then holds you in place so he can shove his phone in your face. You slap it away, but he replaces it in your vision immediately, forcing you to watch the tiny words under the contact <b>MARK’S POPS</b> come into view,</p><p class="p1"> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Hi, Jae. y/n mentioned before that the flowers in her house remind her of kiddo. Keep them watered while she’s away, will you?</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">That’s not right. That’s something you only want to touch upon in a lovely daydream, Mark’s father wasn’t actually supposed to send that sort of message to that sort of person. Moreover, Jaehyun was not supposed to actually go through with it. But he knows just how deliberate you are in your intentions to honor Jeno, to respect his family.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, well, I’m back, so give it to me. I’ll do it, you go,” you order as you hold out your hand for the glass, eager to get him the hell out of here, to let Michael know that you’re able to take care of your beautiful flowers on your own. Thank fucking god that he hadn’t asked Jaehyun to water your lawn, nature had been on your side for that one.</p><p class="p1">He exerts your size difference to his advantage, holding the glass up with his long arm to a point where you can’t reach it, even if you jump. The water starts to slosh over the sides, dripping all over his tee and your floor, yet he holds on, steadfast, undeterred in his mission to fulfill Michael’s request.</p><p class="p1">“Give it to me. Give it to me, Jaehyun!” you shout as you shove at his chest, moving him away from you in an effort to keep him from reaching your sink again.</p><p class="p1">“No!” he pushes back, nearly sending you flying in his efforts to reach the unwatered bluebells. “And stop yelling!”</p><p class="p1">But he makes the fatal mistake of lowering both his arms to block you from hitting him again. The moment the glass is in your vicinity, you jump for it, hands scrambling to reach it before he can pour water over your most precious flowers. He’s strong, but he’s no match for your fiery determination, fingers scratching against his, grappling for some inch of space along the rim that will allow you to wrench it out of his grasp. When you pull it towards you with a particularly ferocious tug, his hand slips, and the glass goes careening out of your hands, shattering against the kitchen wall with a thunderous clatter of shards. The water explodes everywhere, over the ledge, the counter, the plant pots, your shirt, his. You glance down in a stupor, to see the stain of water spreading down the white cotton of your tee.</p><p class="p1">When you look back upwards, there is something new built up upon the skyline of your windowsill. Where before, there had been flat nothingness across the plane of a ceramic cup’s surface.</p><p class="p1">“No,” you whisper, as soon as one sinew of your heart dares to sing in rapture. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no.”</p><p class="p1">“What?” Jaehyun catches your tremor of disbelief no matter how much you try to hide them. It’s not long before his gaze is tracing the path of yours, before his lungs are pushing out the most lovelorn, riddled with impossibility type of sigh, “Oh.”</p><p class="p1">Resting, cozy and loved, in the center of the cerulean mug? One sprig of stellaria. Nothing more than two tiny white stars, cocooned in an embrace of green leaves, just like how they grow in your yard.</p><p class="p1">“Is that…” he breathes out in disbelief, hand through his hair making it stick up everywhere. “I mean, is that really…”</p><p class="p1">“Why the fuck would you do that?!” you shout, the anger inside you keening like an earthquake about to burst upon your heart’s plain, “I told you not to water my flowers!”</p><p class="p1">It had been a mistake, a slip of the hand, a cascade that was never meant to reach that point. It hadn’t even been an action following a careful proclamation in an official ceremony. But you’d wished for him to stop watering your flowers out of a selfish desire to get him out of your house, not because you were afraid something like this could’ve happened. You had already come to terms with the fact that it would never happen, that you would never, ever see your flower blossom. That the only place you’d see the stellaria again was in your backyard.</p><p class="p1">“Y-you. You sewed that into the needlepoint you made me...” There’s no other explanation for Jaehyun to be saying this than he’s reading your mind, carving out each little thought you’d had after he’d kissed your palm in the middle of his house, the awful idea you just couldn’t forget. Said needlepoint is discarded in the back of your closet - he'd left it here without a care in his haste to leave - but somehow he's still as affected by its memory as you are, an occurrence you hadn't been expecting.</p><p class="p1">“You put those flowers in, not because they're a landmark of our hill,” his voice catches all the way, throaty and devastating and whispered at a decibel that only your heart can pick up, “but because they're <em>your flower</em>?”</p><p class="p1">When you’d waited for the database to load the night of Changmin’s blossom ceremony, you’d thought to yourself that your flower must be a red rose - the passionate representation of love, of what was brimming in your heart. But when the picture had made its way onto the screen, depicting the small white flowers that had been braided into your life since the moment you arrived in the city, you couldn’t have thought up a more perfect flower for you to have. After all, it’s why you’d been so enchanted by this house on the hill, the ever present blanket of white reminding you of the flowers your father planted in the garden back home.</p><p class="p1">It’s more than just that. It’s those summer afternoons when you’d sit out in the backyard and cook in the sun, the floral fragrance mixing so wonderfully with the scent of your grass. How you’d pluck them out by the bunch, even in the winter, to keep in vases scattered in your house.All the times Mark and Jeno would roll down the hill with glee, would braid them into each others’ hair, the white buds ending up in yours too more often than not.The lovely feeling that wearing the flowers in your hair inspired, like you were spun from this earth alongside them. Those days when the subtle glimpses of the blooms through your window were the only things that kept you going in your darkest pit of despair, reminding you of the times you’d been alive beforehand.</p><p class="p1">Stellaria are a reminder of home, in your old life and the new. It only made sense back then, to include them in the gift for the person who felt most like home. The person who can’t stop staring at the flowers he made blossom, his amber eyes fighting a direct war with the autumn sun over who gets to shower their luminescence over the blooms first.</p><p class="p1">Each of his heaving breaths comes from deep within his core, his body shaking with the effort his lungs take to keep him going, to expel the incredulous, soft, “That was me, I did that?”</p><p class="p1">Back when you’d been naive and hopeful, you’d assumed that if you were privileged enough to see your blossom come to life under the hand of another’s, that meant you’d found the only person capable of unfurling the petals of your existence. You’d allowed yourself, just once, to believe in something as foolish as destiny. But you’d never thought the flowers could do something this cruel, could callously expose you like this, proclaim to the world that you were in love with someone who loved another.</p><p class="p1">It’s so unfair. Jaehyun’s already had the peony blossom for him, why does he get to have these too?</p><p class="p1">You inflict the heftiest damage of all onto yourself as you snatch up the mug and toss it right into the back of your cabinet, slamming the door shut before you can spot the bloom one more time. But it’s too late, you can see the spread of ivory through your kitchen window, the dried sprig that you’d pulled out of your unbound hair all those months ago in another vase, they’re everywhere, sprouting up between the splintering breaks in your heart.</p><p class="p1">They’re everywhere like the gossip will be if this were to ever get out, if anyone ever heard the news that the sad, broken girl who lived at the top of the hill dared to open her heart to the Regent’s son. It’s already too much that he knows, it’s impossible to fathom what will happen if this somehow gets out. That Jaehyun Jung is the boy from home, the boy from home who’d loved a different girl this whole time.</p><p class="p1">You didn’t even realize he’s come this close to you, but he’s right there, his face the only thing in your visual orbit, each fleck of pity in his eyes a jewel you could pick out. You don’t need his pity, don’t want him to feel bad on your behalf, because he’s half at fault for this. You might be delusional, but he deserves equal blame for leading you down this path. If he’d never come to your house that night, no, if he’d never come into your life at all, maybe things would be better.</p><p class="p1">So, you’ve got to get out of there, out of his magnetic pull, out of this god damn house you’d had the gall to think wasn’t that haunted. And the moment you can, you have to get right out of this city. You hurry like you’ve never hurried before, to snatch up the dress that he recognizes, to hide it behind your back like you want to hide from him.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n," his mouth whispers your name in an exulting plea, no further words necessary to convey that he's about to collapse into literal begging to get an answer out of you. But you can't. If you talk, you're going to cry, and once you cry over him again, you think you might never stop. </p><p class="p1">But you are the biggest fucking idiot on the face of this earth, because you cannot resist letting the honey of his name roll off your tongue one time, “Jaehyun.”</p><p class="p1">And he must be one too, because for some damn reason, it’s like his face has melded with the sun when a hopeful grin starts to tug at his face. Which only induces a feeling of bittersweet comeuppance when it slides away with your harsh, harsh, oh so very harsh parting words,</p><p class="p1">“This never happened.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>honestly don't hate me lol ~everything happens for a reason~</p><p>thank u for reading, as always!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. orchis mascula</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“That’s not enough,” your father shakes his head, dissatisfied by the level of protection that confers upon you. “There’s no way they don’t know it’s her, they could just march right in here and take her. Like they did before.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>honestly this is just a warning, every chapter from now will be so significant lmao. this is a warning</p><p>additional disclaimer: the zero mile "zodiac belief" touched upon here is totally made up/fake and is not intended to offend or make a mockery of any specific religious views. if you are made uncomfortable by the depiction, please, please let me know and I will of course edit.</p><p>ps: thank u thank u thank u to allllll the lovely, kind people who expressed their well wishes over the election to me! i feel much better about it now (biden/harris forever!) and your nice words truly helped :) i'm so lucky to have such great readers!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You suppose you can’t not laugh at Baekhyun’s fifth attempt at a fart joke, but the minute your less than realistic chuckle comes out, he hones right in on it, “You’re acting weird. What’s going on with you?”</p><p class="p1">“Nothing,” you mutter, watching the trees and aimless scenery go by through the window. A big, fat lie.A huge one, even, but you’re not going to concede anything to Baekhyun, knowing how nosy he likes to get. At least it’s just him, Suho, and you in the car. Kai had chosen to stay back in Elyxion to finish preparing the choreography for the album - if it had been all of them together, you would’ve been far more vulnerable to interrogation.</p><p class="p1">He immediately ignores your answer and begins to probe, “You haven’t said a word the whole drive, plus you let Seulgi stay back instead of having her attached to your hip.”</p><p class="p1">You’re going to have to chip in for Yuta and Seulgi’s second date in thanks for the way they’ve saved you from this conversation. And in apology for the brutal, brutal jealousy you’re experiencing on their behalf right now. Okay, play it cool y/n, you’re almost out of this, “I told you about her Neozone boy toy already! She deserves alone time with him. It’s fine.”</p><p class="p1">“None of that answered my question, though.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s a Neozone thing, you wouldn’t get it,” you grumble, words as gravelly as the dearth of feeling in your chest.</p><p class="p1">Because it is, it’s a uniquely Neozone problem that he’ll never understand. When Baekhyun falls in love with the gregarious person meant to complete his heart, he will not have to wonder if he’ll be personally betrayed by an inanimate seed. He’ll never get to where you are right now, the point where you’ve spent all of the last twelve hours wishing your mother had never agreed to get you a flower seed.</p><p class="p1">Suho interrupts your pity party with a taken aback exclamation, “I thought you said Zero Mile was as tiny as Tactix!”</p><p class="p1">“I mean I’ve never been, but I’ve always gotten the impression it was tiny. I told you I used that lie whenever I told a Neozone person where I was from,” you respond, scooting up in your seat to try and figure out what had triggered Suho. When you see it, your voice echos his in your shock, “That’s where you’re staying?”</p><p class="p1">As he pulls the van onto the open mouth of the lengthy gravel driveway, he checks his propped up phone again, to make sure you haven’t taken a wrong turn, then nods, “The invitation said first mansion off the highway. That’s this.”</p><p class="p1">“Holy fucking shit,” Baekhyun breathes out. If Baekhyun Byun, mega star, has the same reaction as you, you know that you hadn’t had the wrong initial impression.</p><p class="p1">You don’t even know what the building in front of you can technically be classified as. If you took Mark’s castle-mansion house, combined it with the most elegant Versailles palace, and blew all that up a thousand times, that is the leviathan of a residence that’s sat in front of you. You think you would need to scramble up the towering maple tree to your right to see the expanse of the entire place. Built out of gleaming ivory marble, the imposing structure does not jive with the knowledge you have of these remote areas. You seriously always thought Zero Mile was as small as Tactix, and Tactix had none of these mega mansions. With what you know about how much of Zero Mile is still caught up in their belief in Zodiac divinity, you had it in your mind that people lived a simple life here.</p><p class="p1">“Who’s place is this again?” you ask Suho as the crew starts to unload themselves from their van. You’d left the planning up to them, for certain obvious reasons, and missed the detail of who would be hosting Baekhyun overnight before the fan sign tomorrow.</p><p class="p1">“Some news reporter,” Suho shrugs, unfamiliar with the hotshots of the Neozone news scene. “I guess you’re right about Zero Mile though, because in our correspondence, he said this was the only place big enough to host all of us at once.”</p><p class="p1">“This is fucking weird,” you mutter, suddenly on guard as you walk up the rosebud-lined entryway. “Why would he offer, assuming there are hotels in town?”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun waves a hand like it’s no bother to him, “Rich people do this all the time just to flex.” He and Suho share a knowing look, before he adds on, “They think it’ll buy them special perks but it never does.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t join in on their shared chuckles, too caught up in how much deja vu this induces, how it feels just like the first time you ever saw Mark’s house. Only this time, there’s no accompanying eleven year old to ease your anxiety. It only builds and builds with each yard you advance to the imposing, gilded doors. By the time Baekhyun has one hand on the knocker, carved out of stone so pearly it looks like a slice of the moon has made its way down to you, you’re itching to drive back to Neozone in a hurry.</p><p class="p1">“Better get to the back, in case he happens to know me!” you chirp once you realize you’re standing at Baekhyun’s right arm, in plain view of whoever will open the door. The sarcasm shadows any worry left in your voice, but Suho must pick up on enough discomfort in you to follow along and not remain up front with his client.</p><p class="p1">You’re not even fully tucked behind Baekhyun’s tour doctor Jongdae when the creak of the door echoes into your ears, followed not by the warbly voice of an old housekeeper, but a voice filled with machismo and bravado, “Welcome, Mr. Byun! Welcome, everyone, please come in!”</p><p class="p1">The anxiety should’ve been a warning sign, it never comes out of nowhere. Congratulations to him, Neozone reporter Siwon Choi is the latest man to spike an anxiety attack into you, though he is a repeat offender in this instance.</p><p class="p1">“What?” Suho hisses, and it’s at that you realize you’ve scissored his arm through with your nails in an involuntary death grip.</p><p class="p1">You let go of him quickly, so you can move your hands together give your left hand a fierce pinch. You can still see the faint scar on that apex of your palm from where you’d drawn blood the last time you crossed paths with the reporter. Crossed paths is the kindest way to describe your encounter, he’d terrorized you, you don’t even have to try hard to conjure up how devastatingly awful you’d felt as you’d tried to escape his penetrating lines of questioning.</p><p class="p1">“I k-know—,” you mumble, tongue thick with distress. “I know him.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even register crossing the threshold into the gargantuan foyer, nothing but the muted tones of marble and gold fading into your eyesight, because you’re seeing that streak of crimson against your palm. Remembering the soft swipe of cotton as a shirt sleeve wiped it away, the press of a nose against yours.</p><p class="p1">Then, Baekhyun is speaking again, and you are forced out of your trance, “Sir, your home is amazing. All these decorations are so unique.”</p><p class="p1">He’s ever the diplomatic celebrity, because it is not as luxurious in here as the outside would lead you to believe. It’s crammed head to toe with tchotchkes and knickknacks of all sorts, clearly expensive but arranged in such a way that gives the interior a lopsided appearance when taking it all in. There’s nothing in the entryway besides an expansive staircase, but lining the walls are shelves and shelves of shiny, ornamental baubles. You don’t even know what half the items are, you’ve picked up several medallions baring the signs of the Zodiac scattered throughout the mess, totems and talismans alike, but it makes no sense to you.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, it’s all my wife’s doing,” Siwon waves Baekhyun’s compliment off, the way his smile spotlights his scarred cheek makes your skin crawl. “She’s been quite interested in the tradition of our hometown’s astrology for some time now. Plus, it’s her salary that’s allowed us to continue living in this majesty.”</p><p class="p1">“Damn, even I couldn’t ever afford this,” the singer blows out an expression of awe as he soaks in the same expensive mess that you are.</p><p class="p1">“My wife is the Premier’s Chief of Ministers, the gig’s pretty cushy.”</p><p class="p1">Your hand flies to Suho’s arm, nails gripping through him again, his flawless skin be damned. Siwon Choi is married to Taeyeon?</p><p class="p1">“I don’t <em>know him</em> know him,” you breathe out, unsure if you even want to contemplate missing this connection. “But I know his wife for sure. I’ve met her a dozen times.”</p><p class="p1">Suho glances at you with interest, but keeps his voice appropriately low, “Does she really work for the Premier?”</p><p class="p1">You nod. “They’re stuck together like glue, she’s there for every official meeting of his.”</p><p class="p1">You take another glance around the room, now more confused than ever as to why the hell this place looks like this. Taeyeon has always been no-nonsense, serene to the point where you’d sought her voice out during all the times she called you on behalf of her superior. She’s pragmatic, all business, in control to a level that Premier Kim can’t even match sometimes. Nothing about her screams a believer in the Zodiac creed that Zero Mile is apparently known for, let alone to the point where she’d amass a collection of relics this big.</p><p class="p1">But it’s not the shiny relics that catch your eye the next instance you take a sweep of the room. It’s a head of auburn hair, bent low, on a tall man that’s meandering through a side hallway.Yuta told you he was here, but that can’t be him, right? Pressing the brim of your ball cap low on your head, in hope that will conceal you enough, you slip out of Suho’s grasp and go tiptoeing through the crowd to get to the covered side doorway.</p><p class="p1">Once you’re out of sight, you break into a jog, deciding that’ll you’ll be foolish and shout his name without a care, “Johnny!”</p><p class="p1">You can’t see him yet, but that’s his deep voice, emanating from down the hallway, “Y/n?!”</p><p class="p1">This is a precarious balance of feeling like you’re in a dream that’s a nightmare, because here’s your John, coming down the hallway in his Pandora U hoodie and sweatpants. It should be a vision that inspires complete warmth through you, but you can only focus your attention to the deep crater of purple that’s bloomed over his left eye. Before he can turn and run or otherwise avoid you, you crash yourself into him, hugging his torso and murmuring, “What happened to your face?”</p><p class="p1">He shoves you off of him, back to the square of the hallway you came from, “You need to go home as quick as possible.”</p><p class="p1">The bruise isn’t the only visible damage on his face, Johnny looks absolutely terrified as his haunted eyes dart from you to the hallway back to you asking, “John, what.”</p><p class="p1">“Go, now!” he hisses.</p><p class="p1">“Come with me.”</p><p class="p1">“I can’t! Dad will freak the fuck out if he finds me gone, especially with you!”</p><p class="p1">This is a role reversal you never expected to have - John, the one in distress, and you the one who has to swoop in and save the day. You have no idea what’s happened to him here, how’s he’s garnered this palette of injuries, what role his father plays in all of this but none of it matters. He cannot stay here, you know that much.</p><p class="p1">“No, I don’t care. You have to come with,” you implore him, slipping your hand in his to try and pull his stagnant form, “John!” Terrified doesn’t even fit his bill anymore, he is a level of scared you’ve never seen before. On a man usually consumed with swagger, it’s a chilling sight.</p><p class="p1">Suho appears out of nowhere, another hand upon Johnny’s arm tugging him in the direction of the door, as he orders, “You go, I’ll tell Baek. We have a security team here, plus they won’t do anything knowing there’s paparazzi all over the place. Take my car.”</p><p class="p1">While you can’t give up on convincing John to come with you, you have to take a moment to ensure Suho knows what he’s getting himself into, “I told you that the Neozone military leaders are here. You really want to leave a whole Elyxion crew here with them?”</p><p class="p1">“You think they won’t be suspicious if we just pack up and leave?” Suho points out. He's as unflappable as ever when he then reassures you, “We’ll be fine.”</p><p class="p1">You have this sense that they might not be fine, and he might have it too, if the dull twinge in his eye gives anything away. But he’s not going to change his mind, not when you’re gripping John’s arm in desperation like you are. Suho flips the hood of Johnny’s sweater over his hair, dips his head in a nod to you, and proceeds to usher you back through the hallway. Suho uses his body to shield yours as Johnny gives up and trails along, ducking down as best as he can to conceal his height.</p><p class="p1">You don’t even hazard a glance back to him or to Baekhyun, you let yourself feel the press of metal keys into your hand, and then the pair of you are sprinting out to the van. There’s no margin of error, you have to go, you have to go <em>fast</em> because they surely have security here, cameras and guards, any number of people that will sound the alarm if they get a peek at your escape attempt. You’ve sat in the driver’s seat, John doesn’t even have the passenger door closed before you’re slamming your foot onto the accelerator, tires squealing in the massive U turn you take to go roaring down the gravel path.</p><p class="p1">Even when the iron gates are behind your back bumper, you don’t let up on the gas at all, deciding you’d rather get a speeding ticket by some unknowing police officer than get run into a ravine by John’s father in pursuit. Speaking of John’s father, you have to know, “What’s going on?!”</p><p class="p1">“There’s no time for that, y/n,” John utters, eyes trained on the dashboard, wide, unblinking, “they’re going to Elyxion.”</p><p class="p1">You have no idea how you don’t fucking swerve off the highway. “John.”</p><p class="p1">He’s shell-shocked, teeth chattering as he tries to force it out, “Part of our military forces were in town, I had no idea. They left maybe a few hours before you showed up.”</p><p class="p1">Across the back of your hand, you feel the wet splash of a teardrop you didn’t even know had formed in your eye. You focus your mind on the feel of your aching palm against the leather of the steering wheel to prevent you swerving into oblivion. If Neozone troops have truly dared to enter Elyxion for the first time since the Mad City rebellion, the premiere stop on their death tour is a town you know well.</p><p class="p1">“John,” you whisper, as another tear burns its way into your skin. “My parents live in Tactix. I called them on the way here.”</p><p class="p1">You couldn’t tell her anything that had happened yesterday, but you’d wanted to hear your mother’s voice only for a second, to naively hope it would fix everything. You’d forced yourself to sit through her account of the morning drive they were out on, biting your thumb to keep from sobbing everything out to her. But should you not have done that? Was that… was that your last conversation with her? No, no, no. It can’t be. It can’t be that. You need to cry to her, just once.</p><p class="p1">“Oh thank god,” he gasps, eyes finally spiraling closed, hand pressing against his neck in a gesture of relief.</p><p class="p1">“What do you mean thank god,” you shriek, “do you not understand, I’m from Elyxion!”</p><p class="p1">John is slow to remove the hood from his head, to turn his face to you so that even in your periphery, you catch the shade of angry lavender his skin is. “Dad tried to force me into going along with their plans, gave me this shiner when I resisted,” he lets out a hugely uncomfortable sigh and in a moment of selflessness, your heart totally breaks for him. But he steels himself and continues, “As soon as he left me alone, I called Mark. Whoever his father contacted should’ve left for the mansion by now. If you talked to your parents, they should be safe.”</p><p class="p1">You are forced to pull over on the side of the road now, by virtue of the alleviating numbness that pulses through your arms. <em>We’re out in the truck for a drive, sweet pea, thank you for calling.</em> Veiled words that they had been on the road already, information purposefully disguised because you realize that you'd accidentally called them on your regular phone, not the burner. You rest your forehead into the steering wheel, and let out an exhale that pricks at every cell in your existence. The past ten seconds were perhaps the most harrowing ten seconds of your life.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god, oh shit,” you hyperventilate, clutching at your blazing chest, “Jesus, John, I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t have gone through that again, another death in your life and you might’ve exploded into a supernova of lamentation, never to be pieced together again. You hold onto the leather for dear life, rubbing your palm back and forth on the stitching, hoping the repetitive action will calm you down.</p><p class="p1">The shot of stillness you desire comes from your companion, the shy little, “You’re from Elyxion?” Johnny asks, after he’s given you a window of respectful contemplation.</p><p class="p1">“Half,” you choke out, trying to use his deep voice as the catalyst to bring about calm, “Mom’s from Tactix, Dad was born in Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">“That makes sense,” he hums, “why you never held any prejudices like the rest of us.”</p><p class="p1">Truth be told, you’d completely forgotten about the raging fights he and Jaehyun used to get into over the other region, the ones Yuta would have to mediate and Mark would purposefully stay out of. The times you’d lied to him about being from Zero Mile, the times you’d convince yourself that you were from Neozone and Neozone only.All of it had been extremely foolish, had been shaped by the hand of the times you lived in and the influence of adults too privileged to have a hold over you.</p><p class="p1">But one good deed is enough to eradicate all of that. John had a pure enough heart to do what was right, to stand up to his own father who he loves so dearly, without a single moment of hesitation. That has to be worth something here.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Mr. Suh?”</p><p class="p1">Yunho's eyes explode out of their sockets when he sees you and Johnny sprinting up the driveway hand in hand after abandoning Suho’s van out by the gate. You don’t know if it’s because of your general disheveled appearance, John’s surprise return to the mansion, or the grotesque injury across his face, but you can’t speculate.</p><p class="p1">“No time,” you wave him off, opening the door for yourself, “are they here?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, picking up on what you’re asking, scrambling into action to lead you and your friend through the halls. “They’re currently sorting themselves out in the ballroom.”</p><p class="p1">Giving up all pretenses of propriety, Yunho breaks out into a jog and you follow, Johnny’s hand firmly in yours. There’s a hearty amount of chatter emanating from the double doors in front of you, a relieving sound to hear after Johnny’s revelation that the Neozone troops had crossed into Elyxion. As he promised, there are the remaining members of Exordium, scattered around the huge receiving room, sprawled out across the furniture and floor, Michael’s employees passing out water and blankets for the displaced refugees.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n?”</p><p class="p1">You turn to your right, still keeping hold on Johnny, and are immediately pressed into a surprise hug by Hyungsik. When he pulls back, it bursts out of you, “Baekhyun and the crew are in Zero Mile at Siwon Choi’s house. But get this, he’s married to Taeyeon Kim, Premier Kim’s Chief of Ministers. I don’t think any of us knew that.”</p><p class="p1">If the information is of value to him, he doesn’t react or look particularly shocked at the morsel of information you were able to discover. He chooses to gently chide you instead, “You were supposed to stay there with him.”</p><p class="p1">You aren’t at a level with Hyungsik to where you can explain why your anxiety had shot through the roof in the first place. But luckily, Johnny, who is currently preoccupied with gaping at all the newcomers, gives you the perfect excuse, “I know, but I had to get General Suh’s son out of there. He was the one who tipped the Vice Premier off that they would be coming.”</p><p class="p1">That gets the first big reaction out of the tall man. Hyungsik's eyebrows rise at the information that your friend is the son of Neozone’s most prominent military leader. “I’m surprised he said something,” Hyungsik mutters, “but Kyungah called first from the capital, we were long gone before Michael rang.”</p><p class="p1">“She’s not here with you?” you ask as you stand on your tiptoes, trying to peer through the small crowd.</p><p class="p1">“Still in Pandora, first time we’ve heard from her since she left. Everyone else is here except for Dohun, who stayed behind to hold down the fort.” But you can’t get any more information from Hyungsik due to the shocked <em>sweet pea? </em>that you hear.</p><p class="p1">“Mom!” you cry, eyes frantically searching the mass of people, “Mommy!”</p><p class="p1">You didn’t just make that up? You heard your mother’s voice here in the mansion, you heard it for sure. But you can’t see her, you can’t see around John’s lanky frame or the family in front of you, they’re not over by Yuta and Seulgi, not on any of the couches. You will never forgive yourself if you have somehow conjured this up.</p><p class="p1">Finally, blessedly, you see your sweet father, on his tiptoes on the ottoman, waving his arms like a mad man, “We’re here!”</p><p class="p1">You’ve never run faster in your life than you do once you’ve seen your parents, taking off in a cloud of longing that smothers Johnny left behind. Hopping over extended legs and skidding around the corner of a lounge chair, it takes you way too long to reach them, them and their stress-lined faces. But the stress melts away when you catapult yourself into your dad’s arms first, into his embrace of maximum protection. As you bury your face in the cotton of his shirt, your mouth can only form one thing, “Thank god, thank god!” Every bit of anger you could hold for them is gone forever, all you want is to be hugged by your mom and dad like this again.</p><p class="p1">The scent of your mother’s lavender perfume joins the foray, her slight form pressing into a three way hug from the side. From behind you, you hear a faint, <em>yo, what’s up cuz! </em>and then you register her whisper, “Sweet pea, there’s a young man looking this way.”</p><p class="p1">You think she means John, you want to peek up to give him reassurance that he’ll be okay on his own amongst these people. But she didn’t mean John. <em>Cuz </em>had been referring to Seulgi, who’s pulling herself out of a hug with her newfound <em>cousin</em>. Your mother meant your best friend, who’s here with his, both of the men completely floored as they watch you with your parents.</p><p class="p1">“Mark,” you gasp, once you confirm that blonde head really belongs to him. “Mark, oh my god.”</p><p class="p1">Though you are loathe to leave the hold of your father, you haven’t seen your best friend in six months. You just have to be with him right now. Like you’re teenagers again, you go sprinting at each other with the full speed an incomplete heart provides, and collide in each other’s arms in the middle of the room. The scent of Mark’s Tom Ford cologne is all you need to feel like this fucked up situation is somewhat okay, the feel of his nose smushed up against your neck enough to seal all your cracks up.Jaehyun awkwardly steps aside to give you two room, but though he bends over to resume handing out water bottles to the displaced, he is certainly not paying attention to anything he’s doing.</p><p class="p1">“Hi bee,” Mark murmurs, still grasping at your back, but now resting his chin on your shoulder so he can look past you, “re those your parents?”</p><p class="p1">You pull away from him, one hand caressing his cheek as you nod, already teary again, “Yeah, bumble. Yeah. These are my parents.”</p><p class="p1">Gripping one of his hands with both of yours, you turn to wave down your family, “Mom, Dad, this is Mark, Michael’s son—,” But for Mark to be here on his own is surely odd, you give up on the introduction to question him directly, “Wait, where’s your dad?”</p><p class="p1">“He sent me right home when John called, and stayed back in Pandora with my other cousin,” Mark explains, not finding it as weird as you do, or at least not showing it.</p><p class="p1">It takes you a second to unwind his phrasing, trying to think of cousins of his you’ve never met. Then, you realize what he meant and you’re frantic once more, almost shaking his whole body with how you’re pulling at his hand, “Kyungsoo? Is he okay, Mark, tell me if he’s okay—,”</p><p class="p1">“Look for yourself.”</p><p class="p1">You’re unsure how you missed the room falling silent, too swept up in the beat of your reunited hearts, but everyone is now staring at the TV that’s suddenly come alive. That gives you an almost full-wall view of a news report, the threatening chyron at the bottom of the screen displayed in an intimidating shade of red, bold text, <em>Breaking news - Premier Kim has called an impromptu gathering of the press in front of his Pandora home.</em></p><p class="p1">Together, you and Mark soak in the image of Premier Kim and Kyungsoo there in the shot, the image of them matching in their white suit jackets a disturbing one. They’re flanked on the left by Taeyeon, and on the right by Michael, and while the former has a placid smile on her face as always, the latter could not look more uncomfortable with being on camera right now. Kyungsoo is a born prince standing in the center of it all, the gold brooch at his throat sparkling in the late afternoon sun, his hair swept back in effortless order.</p><p class="p1">You barely register your father’s brisk mutter, “Is this the investigation?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” Hyungsik’s voice detonates from behind you, “it wasn’t supposed to come out this early.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m coming to you with quite joyous news today,” Premier Kim’s voice booms out, even over the miles and the television speaker. “The kind of boost our nation could use in these times.”</p><p class="p1">“This can’t be about politics, right?”</p><p class="p1">Mark is too astute for your own good, his question shoves the dull point of realization straight through chest. You think of the missing leader of Exordium, of Kyungah’s face, her features that look so much like her son’s, and you know what’s about to come.</p><p class="p1">“As it has been quite well known over the years, I have lived a solitary existence, without the joy of a family unit to complement my life.” As each solemn word spirals out of Premier Kim''s mouth, they shove icy shard after icy shard of terror into you, culminating in a gargantuan glacier of undiluted fear making up your form. “But the blessings of the universe have been heaped upon me, and I have been lucky enough to meet my son for the first time, confirmed by our bloodline match.”</p><p class="p1">When Premier Kim puts a hand on Kyungsoo’s arm, to pull him closer, your senses flood with their shared similarities for the first time. You don’t know how you never put it together, the identical sweep of hair, the same sloping jaw, the matching penchant for seriousness. Kyungsoo might have his mother’s eyes, but he looks a carbon copy of Dorado’s leader right now.</p><p class="p1">Yuta is suddenly in your proximity, his dumbfounded gasp echoing the sentiment in the room, “Kyungsoo is… the Premier’s son?”</p><p class="p1">“As I have been working all my life to further the prosperity of our nation, it would only be fitting for it to continue to be held under the guidance of our family even if I am gone. Thus, I will be instating the practice of bloodline succession.”</p><p class="p1">If there was a frenzy arising at the revelation that Kyungsoo was the Premier’s long lost son, there is a genuine uproar of protest from those in the room. Since Taeyong established the premiership, whenever a new leader was to take over - whether it be due to death or circumstance - a committee of leaders from across Dorado was always put together to select the new Premier. Once the regencies had been set up by Premier Park, it was the Regents who voted on who would ascend to the position. It was never passed down within a Premier’s family. This is absolutely unprecedented, and from the looks of your parents’ stunned faces, totally unexpected.</p><p class="p1">“No,” Hyungsik states, resolute with defiance, “no, this is not what Grandfather wanted.”</p><p class="p1">“Shut up!” your mother barks, as Kyungsoo steps to the podium.</p><p class="p1">It’s been weeks since you’ve heard his deep voice, but this is not how you wanted that reunion to go, “Thank you, Father. After many years of living in darkness, it gives me great pride to finally recognize that I’m descended from such a noble family. I entreat you all to give me patience as I work hard to bring as much prestige as I can to our esteemed nation of Dorado and on behalf of the great people from our region of Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">It’s his voice alright, each syllable from his pretty pink lips a rich note of melody. But the words are not him, you can barely process what he’s saying with the version of him you’re seeing. He’s too different already, too stately, too unfeeling.</p><p class="p1">“He only said Neozone,” your father whispers. “Only Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">That sends your hand right to Mark’s, and his fingers close around yours in silent recognition of the omission. There’s no reason for Kyungsoo not to mention Elyxion in his statement, he’s as much an Elyxion son as he is a Neozone son, he’s half of each, just like Mark is, just like you are.</p><p class="p1">“Has to be a slip of the tongue, right?” your mother mutters to herself, just as your father elbows her and hisses, “Quiet, he’s still going.”</p><p class="p1">“I hope that our reunion will bring about the kind of morale we have so desperately needed.” You think Kyungsoo’s done with his speech after his pointed head nod to the camera, but you are so, so, so wrong. He fixes his beautiful onyx eyes right through the lens, through the miles separating your city from Pandora, and speaks right to you, “And to my blueberry girl, please come home to me.”</p><p class="p1">As the screen goes black, your fingertips tap out a tremulous little tune against your face, from where your left hand has shot to cover your mouth. Blueberry girl is you. Nobody else seems to have put it together — too preoccupied with the political implications of what’s just been announced — not even Mark, who knows all about your relationship with the man. But that’s Kyungsoo’s little nickname for you, only you.</p><p class="p1">Lost in the commotion of earlier, Jaehyun’s enraged voice peals through it all, “Y/n, what is that.”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The anger is tangible in his phrasing, from the way that he has trouble forming the syllables of your name to the way he can’t bite the rest of the query out without sneering. He doesn’t have to specify, his gaze is stomping right across the thin metal band you’d forgotten until now that you’d had on your left ring finger. If he stares any harder, the print of Kyungsoo’s lips against your knuckle might explode in his vision. </span>
  <span class="s2">You should’ve gotten Yunho to throw Jaehyun out when you’d first seen him here, hidden it under the guise of his father’s prejudices.</span>
</p><p class="p1">“We cannot let them remove voted selection of the premiership,” Hyungsik bellows as he paces.</p><p class="p1">But you can’t focus on that when there’s another slithering tentacle grasping at you. Can’t bear to turn your head away from the churning hands of emotion pushing at each other on Jaehyun’s face — devastation versus disgust, with devastation the seeming victor, if the glossiness of his amber eyes is any indication.</p><p class="p1">“Bee,” Mark wheezes, catching the circlet of silver around your finger, “did you actually get married before you left Elyxion?”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You were in Elyxion?” Jaehyun practically screams it, yet it’s still drowned out in the fracas of commotion around you. </span>
  <span class="s1">He has absolutely no place to get angry. You had offered him the chance for you to wear his ring first and he hadn’t given a damn. </span>
</p><p class="p1">You catch Hyungsik’s cry, “Grandfather was about to motion to dissolve the regions, not this!” and the accompanying shriek of, “He what?!” but it’s nothing but background noise to you in the moment.</p><p class="p1">You’re bound by tethered suffering, you and Jaehyun, there’s no reveling in the fact that the first shared feeling you’ve had in some time is something this sinister. It should be giving you the utmost satisfaction to see him like this, whatever cocky bigheadedness he’d gotten when he saw the stellaria bloom destroyed as you cast him aside for another. But it’s as if he’s been specifically designed to hurt every part of you, this time with his pained whisper, “You really got married?”</p><p class="p1">“Everybody shut the hell up!” your father screams, his authoritative yet terrified exclamation tearing your gaze away from Jaehyun. Your father scurries over to you, protecting your body from the screen of the blank TV with his, and proclaims, “I will not let them take my daughter into the capital again.”</p><p class="p1">“Who cares when they’re already married? She should go there to be with her husband!” Hyungsik sighs in exasperation, like your dad is a crazy person for suggesting you take priority. “We cannot let him dismantle the way our government works. We had no idea they were even planning this!”</p><p class="p1">Your mother stomps over to join her husband, the two of them creating a human shield in front of you as your father repeats, “Mr. Park, I am not letting my daughter go to the capital!”</p><p class="p1">You didn’t even make that connection to what Kyungsoo said, that <em>come home to me </em>means he intends for you to join him in Pandora. And you can’t go there. You just can’t. You don’t know how he’s even able to stomach it. All eyes are upon you, you have to make your feelings known. It’s Kyungsoo, it’s the man who’s captivated you so reliably, the answer should be easy. But you’re thinking of how you’ll have to walk by the Pandora Building every day if you live in the capital city. How you’ll be able to look up to the window that was your last lifeline of hope.</p><p class="p1">You can’t muster anything more than a choked whisper, “It was never registered, but my name is on the unofficial papers. I can’t go back there. I can’t do that.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta pulls Hyungsik back from his threatening stance, soothing the palpable tension in the room with his concession, “We’ll keep you safe, y/n, don’t worry.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s not enough,” your father shakes his head, dissatisfied by the level of protection that confers upon you. “There’s no way they don’t know it’s her, they could just march right in here and take her. <em>Like they did before.</em>”</p><p class="p1">There’s a hitch to Mark’s breathing that coincides with yours, with the press of your fingers into your palm that you still can’t help. Why are your inner thoughts mimicking Jeno’s labored pleas, <em>Please don’t let them take me, please, please don’t.</em></p><p class="p1">Then, ever so quietly, from her hiding spot behind Yuta, Seulgi’s voice rings out, “You could actually get married.”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes flutter shut with a fresh wave of nausea. You have to clear the thickness out of your throat once, twice, four times, eight times, and yet all you’re left with is, “I—, what.”</p><p class="p1">You expect to open your eyes to see glares of disdain tossed her way, words of dissent, maybe even the middle finger from Mark. You don’t expect your returning vision to bring about your mother and father both staring at you with the most sympathetic, agreeable faces you’ve ever seen them cast in your direction. And you certainly don’t expect the soft, tender appeal from your dad, “Sweet pea, it’s your best shot to stay out of their hands. No region can interfere in a legal marriage performed in another, they don’t have the jurisdiction to do so.”</p><p class="p1">His is the death blow to any argument that could’ve brewed in you. He knows this firsthand, because he’d been through it with your mother. They couldn’t force you to leave for the capital, couldn’t take you there to be with Kyungsoo since you would already be married.</p><p class="p1">“I know you care for him, but if you want to protect yourself, this might be the best thing to do,” your mother adds on. But boy, oh boy is that the wrong thing for her to say. You have your eyes trained on the unfixed rip in your father’s collar, but there’s no missing the very sharp exhale that booms from your right, an area you absolutely cannot turn to look to.</p><p class="p1">Mark, the selfless guardian of you and your heart, makes the noble sacrifice first, stepping to the epicenter of it all and resolutely proclaiming, “Marry me then, bee.”</p><p class="p1">That deflates the tension in your shoulders less than a nanodrop, but it is enough for you. To be married to your childhood best friend would not be the worst thing in the world, it could be one kind of happy future you feel deserving of. You hold out your hand for his, and as his fingers loop through yours, you mutedly agree, “Yeah, Mark. Okay.”</p><p class="p1">Your hard work is completely unraveled by your mother’s look of pity, her commiserative, “He is too obvious a target, sweet pea.” Her sympathetic glance to Mark beside you only seals the gate across that lone promising future, “Plus, your father’s status would require you two to go back to Pandora.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll do it.”</p><p class="p1">“No,” the word comes out of your mouth before you even let your eyes flick to the source of the noise. There’s only one person in this entire region, this entire nation, with that particular silvery voice.</p><p class="p1">“You have a girlfriend, douche bag,” Johnny’s mutter only confirms what you’d assumed, and then you have nothing left to do but to look.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun must’ve tried to run forward, because John is holding him back by his shirt sleeve, by his <em>embroidered</em> shirt sleeve, the sleeve of a green and yellow tee you’d given to him for St. Patrick’s Day two years ago. He shoves the taller man off him and lays himself at your parents’ feet, “I am not married, it’s fine. If she needs someone to marry, I’ll do it.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no explanation for the pure panic that takes its traversing course through your veins, the involuntary denial that you blurt, “No, no, his father is Regent of Neozone, isn’t that the same thing as Mark? There’s always a dozen Neozone guards around him!”</p><p class="p1"><em>Plus, he hates me</em> is the addendum left unsaid, but both you and Jaehyun know it’s brooding right there. You’ve never seen him desperate in this way before, his honey hair tumbling into his eyes as he keeps his gaze lowered from meeting your parents’, yet continues sneaking glances back to you. Your poor father must be confused out of his mind, trying to tie the strings together between you and this young man he’s never seen or heard of before. </p><p class="p1">“No,” Hyungsik denies, suddenly intrigued with the idea as well. “Regent Jung’s permanent residence is <em>here</em>, he’s a political figure unaffiliated with what’s going on now. And Mr. Jung is here without supervision, is he not?” He’s sadly right, there’s no set of Neozone or Pandora guards around Jaehyun, like you’d grown used to before.</p><p class="p1">“What about John?” You’re despondent now, doing something, anything you can to get yourself out of this, to get your mother on your side. “His father is a general, but that should be fine, right?”</p><p class="p1">You know it’s not fine, if the wince the adults share tells you anything. General Suh is traipsing through Elyxion right now, it absolutely would not be fine for him to come back and find you married to his son. On top of that, because not a single other person here knows how far reaching Jaehyun’s father’s antipathy for you is, it is a fair assumption to make for them, that he would protect you.</p><p class="p1">“Listen,” Jaehyun stands in front of Hyungsik now, and directly addresses him, “we already live in the same place, we’ve known each other for years, wouldn’t it make it less weird for us to be together in that way?”</p><p class="p1">The second in command doesn’t have any context, no one in this god damn room has any context, Hyungsik only looks pleased as punch there’s such an easy solution to the problem of you, “Yes, that would be ideal. Easy to keep track of you two without forcing you to move. It’s settled.” He’s the only authority figure left here besides your parents, so what he says, goes. <em>It’s settled </em>is only two words, but he’s nailed your blackened heart to an indifferent one with those two words.</p><p class="p1">You don’t even register how your parents, Mark, John, Yuta, anyone have reacted to any of this. The world washes away into hazy blurriness as you stare at Jaehyun. Why is his chest is moving like he’s just exerted some great effort, why are his eyes are trying to land on anything but you? You feel pried apart, laid bare in front of him to the whims of his swerving emotions, unable to comprehend why his noble idiocy had come through in your defense. Everybody in this entire city knows he has a fiancée his flower has blossomed for, why is he laying that aside for you?</p><p class="p1">Hyungsik lets out a huff then pointedly continues the conversation, “Now that we’re done sorting Ms. Y/l/n’s personal life out, can we please get on the more important matters?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, sorry, Hyungsik, please go ahead,” your father defers the head of the room back to him.</p><p class="p1">“Before he died, Grandfather had started to look quite superficially into Dorado’s historical record of unification or unification talks. Read a lot of books, spoke to a lot of experts. I know, because I used to see him on campus all the time.” You remember the pictorials of Premier Park with Hyungsik at XM University quite well. You used to wish that you were able to have a relationship with your grandparents like that. But that was all to hide his discourse on unification?</p><p class="p1">“What are you saying?” your mother cuts in, trying to get Hyungsik to clarify and not stoke the flame any further.</p><p class="p1">“I’m saying something is off. Grandfather was about to bring a motion to the Regents to dissolve the border. Premier Kim was his Vice Premier, he knew everything about his schedule. Even if he didn’t know what exactly they were talking about, it’s not like he couldn’t have gone digging.”</p><p class="p1">“This is Premier Kim we’re talking about, not random, kidnapping goons,” Mark interjects, confused as to what point the other man is trying to make. You would normally agree with him - beyond your first encounter with the official, you’ve never gotten a truly terrible sensation off of him. But this surprise announcement coupled with the bizarre way Kyungsoo came across on screen, has that preemptive sense of danger, lurking in you ever since Jeno, roaring back. </p><p class="p1">“Nobody knew he was going to do this, so we cannot trust anything they say now,” Hyungsik has the fight blown right out of him, suddenly becoming downtrodden and solemn. “He nearly crushed us once, we cannot let him do it again.”</p><p class="p1">“What do you mean crushed you once?” Mark wonders out loud, and you’re finally interested in this subject enough to wonder too.</p><p class="p1">“The winter storm of five years ago. Premier Kim didn’t think it was a worthwhile investment to give us aid.Michael physically fought the Premier’s guards in the snow to give Dohun a chance to personally beg for the borders to open to save Elyxion. It’s an incident that we wrote off back then as a strange lapse in judgement, but I’m afraid we may have to re-visit it now, ” your mother murmurs, the surprise bomb of the truth. </p><p class="p1">Mark’s brow furrows in confusion at the mention of his father. You were the only one who caught those clues that Christmas, have been playing this game with an outrageous level of purposeful handicap. That terrifying shadow of a bruise you thought you’d seen on Michael’s back through the rip in his shirt, had in fact been borne in an effort to help your parents and Elyxion. He’d concealed to shelter you and Mark from the realities of the world, a direct parallel to your mother’s hard work.</p><p class="p1">She looks upon you with a full heart of motherly love, upon your friends with cherished appreciation, upon Jaehyun with curious intrigue. She doesn’t have to explain her expression, you know she views him as your last line of defense, like he’s the last knife standing between you and and a masked assailant. And she softly pleads, “It’s nothing for you kids to worry about, though. Please get y/n taken care of instead, alright?”</p><p class="p1">Who are you to say no to your mother now?</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">In the long list of <em>should haves</em> that led to this point, you never expected <em>I should’ve worn pants </em>to be added as a bullet. But yes, you should have worn pants, this end of September evening should have been cool enough to do so, you should have been smart enough to not wear a dress that exposes your knee like this, you should have sat in the seat furthest away from him as possible. Because the inch between your bare knee and Jaehyun’s is a cavernous canyon that is paradoxically uncrossable.</p><p class="p1">“You don’t have to do this,” you murmur, more to your folded hands than to him, but the waiting room is empty. He can hear you, loud and clear.</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t take your out, instead asking the question he’s been dying to try and hold in, “You went to Elyxion to get married?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t understand why you volunteered,” you decide to do the same thing, to sidestep his conversation to continue your own, “John didn’t, and nether did Yu.”</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t know you were there, let alone there with him, and that you wanted to marry him!”</p><p class="p1">You were wrong when you thought nothing had changed during your time away. Jaehyun has never, ever, <em>ever</em> infuriated you to this level before. Everything about his god awful smarminess only adds fuel to the fire of your anger, even the fact that he’s decided to change into a nondescript white button down for some sense of formality. He’s such an asshole, such, such, such an asshole. You wish you had the fortitude to tell him that to his face.</p><p class="p1">“Everyone knows that you already had a blossom ceremony, what the fuck are people going to say when they find out we’re <em>married</em>?!” you curse, in a very unladylike manner.</p><p class="p1">Now that you’ve gotten dirty with your personal attack, it’s no holds barred for him, too, “What the fuck are people going to say when they find out you were going to marry the Premier’s bastard son!”</p><p class="p1">“And you think Mimi will somehow be okay with this why? You know she fucking hates me and always has,” you growl, letting the full pot of sour jealousy boil in your chest, “she’s not going to be happy no matter who it is, but me? Come on man, use your fucking brain!”</p><p class="p1">“She doesn’t hate you!”</p><p class="p1">“She absolutely does! She thought I was faking being upset about Jeno for fuck’s sake!”</p><p class="p1">The only morsel of hate you’ve ever held for Mimi is not due to her relationship with Jaehyun, but for the audacity she’d had to ever think your feelings about what you went through with the youngest Lee son were false. Though the idea had been planted in her head by her tactless friends, she’d dug her own grave by not rising above their toxic sludge.</p><p class="p1">This is a story you’ve never told him, and she clearly hasn’t either, judging by the way his breath snags, the minute twitch of his nose indicating his displeasure. But he must leap to some fantastical conclusion which leads to not a response of sympathy, but one of derision, “Has this just been a game to you all along?”</p><p class="p1">“A game to me? This is clearly a game to you!Why the fuck else would you <em>sleep with me </em>and then pretend it never happened?!” you spit as you spring up from your chair without hesitating, your bare knee knocking into his like a detonation of atrocity right into the empty room. </p><p class="p1">There it is, out in the air — the parasitic truth, for the very first time.</p><p class="p1">A corner of Jaehyun’s lip curls up in a sneer, but he cannot conceal the rosy aurora of a blush across his pale cheek. It is up to you to determine whether that is a result of embarrassment, regret, distaste or a combination of all three, but he can’t ignore reality anymore. He’s good at everything, but he’d been impossibly perfect at the task of forgetting that night. You’d assumed all that responsibility yourself, unable to forget the way he’d stared at you, like every part of your heart was sewed right onto his, unable to cast away how you’d been foolish enough to lose yourself in him so wholly, to trust him that deeply.</p><p class="p1">“You want to do this <em>here</em>?” he hisses, glancing around for bystanders and finding none, yet continuing his back and forth sweep of the room in anxiety. </p><p class="p1">The Ministry of Cultivation’s headquarters is a solemn and imposing building, one that should be acted in with respect. But you couldn’t care less about things you are supposed to do anymore, even if there are somehow security cameras and guards right outside the door. You were supposed to let Jaehyun fade out of your life, and look where that’s led you.</p><p class="p1">Fine, you’ll dig deep for the most spiteful barbs you can slice him with, it’s only appropriate retribution, “I was going to offer you a way out but you ruined it by turning this into a fight. Just like you ruin everything else.”</p><p class="p1">He finally has the impulse to stand as well, to go toe to toe with you in a fierce argument, “You pretended like it never happened, too! You didn’t even speak to me at the party until I approached you!”</p><p class="p1">Was that… was that all you needed to do? If you’d timed it perfectly, caught him with a kiss in a moment alone and let the petals of your sober confession fall upon him, would things have unfolded in a less heart-wrenching way? No, the blame for that cannot be on you.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, so the pressure was on <em>me</em> to say something? At your birthday party? In front of all your friends and your family, plus your girlfriend?”You tie a double knot of full sarcasm around your sardonic, rhetorical questions, wanting him to know just how ridiculous he sounds for even suggesting that.</p><p class="p1">“You showed up with Kyungsoo!” his displeased growl reverberates through the space, “What was I supposed to think!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun should’ve thought of you and only you, it’s the least he could’ve done.</p><p class="p1">That gives you the insight into his heart you need, his heart that is only selfish now, all traces of tenderness gone forever. Finally, the brunt of your wrath can uncoil, can spring out to wound him like he’s wounded you, “I told you I wanted to marry you, you fucking asshole, that was it!”</p><p class="p1">It’s<em> wanted</em>, not want. It’s definitely wanted, it has to be wanted, you don’t want to marry him now, not like this. But it’s too late to make that revision known, so you’re treated to Jaehyun’s arrogant, “I’m marrying you now, so looks like you got your wish.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, just shut the fuck up,” you sneer.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun rolls his eyes and snaps, “You shut the fuck up.”</p><p class="p1">A soft little voice cascades into the middle of the standoff, “Jaehyun? Y/n?” Jungwoo, the minister’s assistant, is hovering in the doorway, clearly having caught the last bit of your argument. You freeze in your poses of confrontation, and you have to repress the bitter laugh when Jungwoo glances down to his tablet and back up in total confusion, “Are you actually next?”</p><p class="p1">Here’s your chance, take it and fucking run!</p><p class="p1">“Let’s get this over with,” you growl, being a stupid idiot when you don’t take the opportunity to weasel your way out of this. You snatch up your sweater and walk right next to Jungwoo so Jaehyun has no space to come along beside you.</p><p class="p1">You’ve never met the Minister of Cultivation in person before, and you are already intimidated by his imposing presence, even without the pearly gold robe he wears during his official business. The minimalist nature of his office is not helping either, forcing you to focus right on the deep pink orchid that’s bloomed into the crystal goblet on his desk. Perhaps your reputation in this town continues to precede you, because Minister Lee turns a warm smile to only Jaehyun,</p><p class="p1">“Mr. Jung, good to see you again.”</p><p class="p1">You swear the grinding of your teeth could be heard all the way in Elyxion. At least Jaehyun has the sense to come across tangibly embarrassed as you both sit down in front of him. “Sir.”</p><p class="p1">“It was certainly a pleasant surprise to see you and Ms. Y/l/n on the call list for tonight,” Minister Lee says, with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. “Did you hold a blossom ceremony without a ministry official?” What a dumb question for him to ask. He was there at the real one and should know you couldn’t have held a blossom ceremony because of that. Anaccidental toss of water is all you’ll get.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun answers like it was actually a legitimate query for the other man to ask, “No, but it won’t be necessary for this.”</p><p class="p1">“You kids are so interesting these days,” he muses as Jungwoo busies himself with preparing forms and other necessary bookkeeping. “The generation before you thought it was all the rage to steal flower seeds from me, at least your lot has given up on that. Getting married without a ceremony is a new one. Must mean a lot to you two, to do it this way. ”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s awkward laugh coupled with your pained grin must prod Jungwoo into smoothing things over for his boss, “Er, anyways, a lot of the wedding formalities become irrelevant because you have chosen to forgo your blossom ceremony. This won’t take long. First, you both need to sign the contract.”</p><p class="p1">Jungwoo passes the thick, embossed piece of parchment off to Jaehyun first. He could not look more aloof about what he’s doing, scrawling out the looping swirls of his signature, <em>Jeffrey Jaehyun Jung,</em> irritatingly elegant, then passing the paper in your direction and tossing the pen down without a care. You feel the muscle in your jaw cord with hostility, you set your mouth in a straight line, then pick up the pen and dash your name against the remaining open line.</p><p class="p1">“We need to also add a drop of blood for the bloodline record.”</p><p class="p1">When the silver needle pricks at his finger, Jaehyun hisses in pain, like the spineless asshole he’s revealed himself to be. He’s unknowingly given you your opportunity to get your one up over him, to prove that you can be as careless about this as he is. You’ve stabbed at your fingertips with sewing needles an uncountable amount of times, have had your back cleaved apart by a blade a thousand sizes bigger than this one.</p><p class="p1">So, when Jungwoo lances the pointed end of the new needle against the pad of your left ring finger, there’s no suggestion of a wince, hiss of agony, bite of your lip, nothing. You keep your eyes trained right to the patch of white wall behind Minister Lee’s head, and don’t move. The bubble of crimson bursts forth from your skin and you press your finger to the paper with haughty indifference. You can’t stomach the sight of the twin smears of blood stained in by your signatures on the marriage license.</p><p class="p1">“Congratulations,” Jungwoo greets you both with a bow. “You are now married.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s it?” you blurt, the look of confusion you share with Jaehyun the first thing that’s seemed normal in a while. You expected pomp and circumstance, an abundance of nostalgic sadness, not less than five minutes in an old man’s closed off office.</p><p class="p1">“Like I said, almost the entire wedding processional involves your flowers. If you’ve chosen to forgo the ceremony—,”</p><p class="p1">The normalcy dissolves away into familiar displeasure, you don’t even try to hide the annoyed face you make, “Not to be rude, but I don’t care. If this is it, we’ll go — you surely have appointments to fill.” Your marriage is legal record now, there’s no reason to linger or otherwise let this injury fester any further.</p><p class="p1">You know you have to respect Minister Lee, but you want to curse him out you when he holds out a hand to stop you from getting up, “You may say vows to each other, if you have them.”</p><p class="p1">“No, that won’t be necessary,” you respond, with as much refinement as you can pull together, to not laugh in his face. You flash him a proper smile, then collect your bag to actually stand up from the chair and head to the door.</p><p class="p1">“You’re two kids in love getting married, you don’t have anything you want to say to each other?”</p><p class="p1">The hint of his grandfatherly tone is enough to give you pause, to arrest your feet from going another step further. He’s right, the you of old had many a thing to say. If you plucked out each stellaria growing in your yard, found every one bloomed across the nation, that would sum up the bounds of useless affection you’d held for Jaehyun for so long. You’d blithered and blabbed that night, all those things you’d longed to tell him for so long, in the ultimate display of trusting vulnerability. Highly ironic that the bloom of your own stellaria has erased all that sentiment for good.</p><p class="p1">The other ironic thing in all of this? When you glance over your shoulder, through the curtain of your hair, Jaehyun’s turned in his seat to glance back at you in return. It’s like he’s waiting expectantly, for you to cave first as you always seem to do, while he sits back and reaps the emotional puff-up with no consequence.</p><p class="p1">It’s not two kids in love, it’s only you, and you have no time for this anymore.</p><p class="p1">“There’s nothing to say,” you state, simple and matter of fact. “Thank you very much for your time, Minister.”</p><p class="p1">And, like the icon of the region you are, you stride from the room with full and deserved arrogance.</p><p class="p1">Mark offered to pick you up when Yunho had arranged your ministry visit, so you walk all the way down the deserted street, to the set of benches that’s placed by the turnoff into the building’s parking lot. He can’t miss you here, and there’s no way you could be followed this far out by anyone still in the building.</p><p class="p1">As you deal with wiping away the rivulet of blood that’s spilled from your finger, the opalescent moonlight scatters across the silver band that you’re still wearing. You’d hesitated when Kyungsoo had given it to you, daring in that moment to indulge in the fantasy of wearing another’s. You want to tattoo it into your skin now, to mark yourself with the brand that you’re only his, to partake in a different fantasy, that he’d been the one to make your flower blossom. It’s probably a horrid thing for you to want to do, not out of your direct feeling towards the man, but to prove a point to another.</p><p class="p1">It should come to no surprise, then, that your immediate karma hits. You feel the weight of someone sitting next to you on the bench and hear a dark mutter, “At least take that thing off.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no one else it can be but Jaehyun, but you’re still taken beyond aback when you look up to see him there, face turned away from you but holding out something in your direction. You need less than a second to register what it is, that’s enough time to slam your eyes shut and shove his hand away from your personal space.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t want a shitty ass ring you bought for your girlfriend,” you growl.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” his exasperated sigh forces compels your gaze back upon him, to really soak in how unfair he looks, with his broad shoulders silhouetted by the vindictive moon. “I already told you to shut up about it!”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not going to shut up about it!”</p><p class="p1">Your plagued defiance leaves him no choice him to grasp at your wrist, to pull your hand into his and deposit the piece of jewelry right into your palm. Honestly? You’re afraid to look at it.So you don’t yet, you close it in your fist and prime up your crippling return jab, <em>How dare you pawn off something meant for your real girlfriend on me? </em></p><p class="p1">And like the asshole he is, he ruins it all for you. Jaehyun ruins your efforts to stay angry in one fell swoop with his devastating confession, “I bought it for <em>you</em>.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t not look anymore. If he’s lying, he should be exposed as soon as you pull back your fingers to reveal a gaudy gemstone that would make sense on his girlfriend’s finger. But that’s not what’s resting inside your careful hold. Inside is an open loop of finespun gold, twisting ends spread out into the delicately embossed form of oak leaves, each dotted in the center with a sparkling diamond.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve had it for two years now, I was going to give it to you that Christmas,” Jaehyun’s whisper comes from the subterranean depths of his chest, heady and intoxicating.</p><p class="p1">“I really don’t give a shit,” you bite back, stunned at the way your voice comes out so strongly despite your trembling body.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun isn’t even mad that you’re arguing back, he just talks right over you, hypnotizing voice silencing your vitriol in an instant, “I had no idea what to get you that year, okay? I was gonna buy a hat that Taeil signed, but one day J and I were at the mall…”</p><p class="p1">You literally might vomit your heart out right onto this bench. “I’m sorry… did you say…. what?”</p><p class="p1">He leans his head back over the bench, hair cascading everywhere with the motion, and you can see his breath blow out into the cool night air. Then his words absolutely shred you apart, “It was way before everything happened, on one of those days I had to pick Jeno up from baseball because you were busy. He wanted to stop at the mall to get those soft pretzels, so we did, and right across from the food court is that specialty jewelry place. I thought about it, but I also thought it was fucking crazy to get you something like a ring. He was the one who convinced me.”</p><p class="p1">Oh my god, this is not real, this really isn’t real.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s fingers play with the edge of the wooden seat and he sighs again, “He said, <em>Minmin and Le would probably die if I got you to get y/n a ring, they’re obsessed with her.”</em>He does such an impression of the teen it’s like he’s sitting with you here on the bench. <em>“</em>So I asked him what he thought you’d like. I picked this out and we bought it together, he even gave me a twenty because he wanted to chip in.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t understand how this is happening. You thought your final conversation with the boy had been his magnanimous departing act to provide you comfort when he was the one suffering. Neither of you had the foresight that Jaehyun would change his mind completely after, would stow away the ring you’re holding in deference to his heart’s other desires. So when he said, <em>I’m sure he does</em>, Jeno thought he knew something. You’d whispered to him that you didn’t know if you loved Jaehyun, because you didn’t really know back then, and Jeno had whispered that to you, <em>I’m sure he does</em>. As in, <em>I’m sure he does love you.</em></p><p class="p1">“If you want to keep wearing his, that’s fucking fine,” Jaehyun finishes, harsh yet honest, “but I bought this for you.”</p><p class="p1">He can’t keep doing this to you, he can’t. He’s a frosty snowstorm blown over your hopeful blossom, dashing away any chance of prosperity. Yet he is also the brilliant summer sun, coaxing the tiny petals of your soul out into resplendence. It’s impossible for him to be both at once, but those were the roles he was born to play in the seasons of your life.</p><p class="p1">When Minister Lee had asked you if there was anything you wanted to say, you’ll have to mark your dissenting response down as yet another lie. You thought you’ve said everything to Jaehyun that you’ve ever intended to, but that’s not quite all of it. The final unspoken words will determine if you will be exiled into the dark wastelands of the winter, or if you will be blessed with the promise of a pristine sunrise. He bought you a ring with your favorite boy you’ve ever known, how could you not say this to him?</p><p class="p1">“I lo—,”</p><p class="p1">“Hold on.” Saved or cursed, you don’t know, but Jaehyun’s phone starts to buzz before you can give him a glimpse at what you would’ve vowed to him, in the universe where you’d been alive enough that December to accept this ring.</p><p class="p1">You’re not trying to look, but his phone is right there in his hand. Reading the contact name, <em>girlfriend</em> with three pink heart emojis, is enough for you to know the snows will come early this year. Whether she’d saved herself as that, or he did, it doesn’t matter, it’s still her contact. All it reminds you of is that he’s going to frame what he’s done today as a politically correct sort of move, the kind a benevolent prince would make, and he will swear to Mimi that he will give her the ring of her dreams when this is all said and done. After all, she’s the one who made the honeysuckle blossom, not you.</p><p class="p1">That’s why it hurts in a particular, profound way, when his thumb hovers over the answer button. He doesn’t have to pretend like this, you know where his heart truly lies.</p><p class="p1">“You can answer it,” you concede, soft and without any fight left in you. “I know it’s Mimi.”</p><p class="p1">He continues to hesitate, amber eyes taking a punishing route from your face to the screen and back. You’ll make the choice easy for him, to let him go to the one he’s meant for. You smile sadly at him, one lift of the corner of your mouth, and your concession blows out into the night air, “I’ll walk home. You can go with Mark.”</p><p class="p1">You slip his ring into the pocket of your sweater, and in with it, you desperately hope, goes the last diamond cutout of you that loves Jaehyun Jung. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’ve been out of the mansion since the first spiraling rays of the morning sun came pealing through the window, before anyone could wake and ask you what came of the night before. You must’ve walked past every building in Neozone, so it makes sense that you pass by the broadcast station, but what comes out of it is impossible to predict.</p><p class="p1">It starts with a shocked call of your name, “Y/n?”</p><p class="p1">You peer past the brim of your baseball cap to see an old friend there on the steps leading down from his office, “Doyoung, hi!”</p><p class="p1">If he’s approaching you like this, that means he doesn’t know anything about your change in relationship status, which means Joy doesn’t know, which means Mimi doesn’t, which means Jaehyun did not tell her. You’d locked yourself into the guest room before Mark had gotten home last night, so you have no idea how any of that unfolded, but you can’t say you’d expected anything less. He probably has the divorce agreement already teed up for you.</p><p class="p1">“I heard rumors you were back in Neozone but wasn’t sure if I believed them! It’s so good to see you,” Doyoung greets you with warmth, a call back to when you had been innocent enough to consider that whole group friends of yours.</p><p class="p1">“You too, dude,” you return the hug, because he hasn’t done anything specific to knock him from that status. Your position in the embrace puts the logo of the broadcast station right into your vision. You don’t know how that connects the thought in your mind, but you pull back and ask, “Listen, can I ask you something?”</p><p class="p1">Doyoung nods. “Shoot.”</p><p class="p1">“Does the station control security cams in the city?”</p><p class="p1">“We do, the military post contracted the station’s video services a long while ago,” Doyoung confirms, before he catches the contemplation on your face and inquires, “Why?”</p><p class="p1">You can’t remember if Siwon Choi was ever employed as a reporter here, it’s not that information you’re after exactly. But he’d been at the mansion more than once, when Taeyeon was there too — maybe there’s some piece of this fucked up puzzle you’re missing.How can you frame this in a way that won’t freak your friend out? You start tentatively, “I’m not sure if this is technically legal but…”</p><p class="p1">“There’s something you want to see,” Doyoung surprises you with the ease he finishes your sentence with. “You have a time in mind?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know, to be honest,” you shrug. If you give him the specifics, you might reveal more hints than you intend to. Better let him figure out what you’re asking for than purposefully endanger yourself or him.</p><p class="p1">He smiles, knowing and sly, “I’ll get you like everything from the past twenty years. Dad gave me access a long time ago. Let’s go back in, it’ll only take me a second.”</p><p class="p1">You’d never thought you’d be giving thanks to severe-faced Mr. Kim, but you do as you follow Doyoung back into the broadcast station. Doyoung only runs a radio show, has never bothered to work himself any higher in the company, but his status as a CEO’s son has finally worked to your advantage. Not a single person does a double take as you stroll beside him to his small, first floor office, it feels like you’re gaming the system to get what you want. But perhaps you’re due an incident-free instance of investigation for once.</p><p class="p1">It takes him a comically short time to load up his computer and type in his password, then find the videos buried in some archive you can’t even follow the file path to. He puts them onto a new flash drive on your behalf and in less than five minutes, you have two decades worth of security footage in your back pocket. You’ve been friends with Doyoung for years, maybe even crossing into the territory of good friends in certain eras. But this was sort of unexpected, the way he so easily went along with what you asked.</p><p class="p1">You have to say something about it, even if he denies it, “I’m shocked there was no protest from you.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s because you’re you. If anyone else came to ask me for these, I wouldn’t have said another word.” You feel your forehead crinkle as you try to make sense of what Doyoung’s implying, and he fills the rest out for you, “You’re the most loyal person ever, you’d never tell on me.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult at this point. You’ve seen first hand how being loyal to a certain person has paid you back in nothing but dirt and a ring you feel like you’re not allowed to want. But your loyalty hasn’t been limited to only him. You’d put your allegiance to Jeno and Mark on blast across every television in the nation, you’d held that brand of devotion in the quest to return to your parents. That is the kind of loyalty you’re proud to be known for.</p><p class="p1">You tap him on his arm, voice soft, “Thanks, Do.”</p><p class="p1">He nudges you back with his elbow, then flicks his computer off without a care and offers, “You want my driver to take you home? I have to go over to Sun &amp; Moon.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m going to walk, thanks though.”</p><p class="p1">“Let’s go together, at least. You don’t have a guard anymore, which you probably like.”</p><p class="p1">Doyoung is certainly right about that. You love Yuta, appreciate the sacrifices he’s made for you over time, but it’s been so nice in your time away, to be able to walk freely, to do whatever you desire. Like this — after you send a text to Mark to pick you up at the restaurant, you can stroll through downtown with an old friend, let the autumn evening breeze warm you up. You glance over and see that he’s in a handsome slate grey suit, different from what he usually wears on the show, and compliment him, “You look nice, by the way. Is it your and Joy’s anniversary or something?”</p><p class="p1">“No, Binnie and Minhyuk had their blossom ceremony this past week, so we’re all celebrating.”</p><p class="p1">No time like the present to force yourself to get over the visceral reaction that even a tangential topic to him raises in you, so you keep it light and pleasant, “Oh, that should be so lovely. Sun &amp; Moon is perfect for things like that.”</p><p class="p1">Doyoung lets out a pained groan and rubs a hand across his eyes, “You’re too nice. It’s going to be so fucking awkward. I’m only going because Joy begged me not to leave her alone with Mimi, I think all her other friends dipped.”</p><p class="p1">“What? Why?”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, you don’t know what I’m talking about?” Doyoung stops on the street corner to get a better look at your face, to realize that you’re not following where he’s going with this. “I could’ve sworn Nakamoto or Suh would’ve run this information straight to wherever you were while you were gone.”</p><p class="p1">Now you’re nervous, hands fisting against the leather strap of your bag to keep from ticking against each other. Something John or Yuta would’ve raced to tell you? You force yourself to start walking again, maybe the elevated heart rate from the exercise will help steady your voice out, “Doyoung, I’m telling you I have literally no idea.”</p><p class="p1">Suddenly, the fatigue and annoyance drains from his face, replaced instead with amused mirth, “You’re going to die laughing, it was probably the biggest Neozone scandal in a long, long time.” Your lips purse at the word <em>scandal</em>, knowing it had been the choice phrase to describe you after your capital ordeal. Doyoung quickly amends, “It’s not your level of scandal. It’s gossip, nothing more.”</p><p class="p1">Ooooh, gossip, of course. Yuta and John loved a good gossip session. Now you’re actually kind of irked at yourself that you’d closed that channel of communication off. It would’ve been nice to indulge in that familiar pastime while you were in Elyxion.</p><p class="p1">Doyoung glances around the sidewalk, making sure that you won’t be crossing paths with anyone you know, then absolutely ravages you, “Jaehyun and Mimi’s blossom ceremony did not work.”</p><p class="p1">You’re going to pass out right in the middle of this god damn intersection.</p><p class="p1">“What do you mean it didn’t work?”</p><p class="p1">“Like they did the damn thing, matching outfits, flower seeds in the vases, their families and Minister Lee there for the ritual, and <em>their flowers did not blossom</em>.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh,” you breathe, all your lungs are capable of, “holy shit.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, holy shit is right,” Doyoung blabbers on, oblivious to the way that you’re reacting to his news. “I mean I knew these things happened from time to time, but to see it in real life was on another level.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve somehow fallen right into some kind of audiovisual hallucination in the time since you left the broadcast station. This time, not even the subtle pinch of your fingers against your palm can convince you that you’re here and comprehending what Doyoung is saying. He’s not saying that, it’s really just something you’re making up.</p><p class="p1">“I just. So what happened, exactly?” you ask, needing to prove yourself right, that this is all fake.</p><p class="p1">“I mean, it’s exactly what you can imagine. The flowers are supposed to blossom as soon as the water hits the soil. But a minute passed, and then another, and that was it.”</p><p class="p1">A glance down, and up, that was it for you, from the moment that cup of water had shattered to when the pretty little stellaria had curled up from the surface of the ceramic. A minute was far too long, even, maybe five seconds at most.</p><p class="p1">There’s no coherent response you can form, you’re thankful that Doyoung chooses to continue the deluge of information, “I’ve literally never heard someone cry that hard before. I’m talking snot, sobbing, the whole shebang from Mimi.” He shakes his head in sympathy for the woman, before he drops the next bomb, “All Jaehyun could do was sit there.”</p><p class="p1">No, that doesn’t make sense. He has to have been devastated. He <em>has </em>to have been. Mimi has been the only girlfriend you’ve known him to have, he’s been legitimately in love with her since high school if her stories have any ounce of truth to them. That kind of reaction has to have been shock, right?</p><p class="p1">“They continued to date afterwards, I guess trying to prove that a failed blossom ceremony couldn’t kill a relationship? Not sure,” Doyoung divulges, before letting out another annoyed sigh, “so yeah, you can imagine how awkward it’s going to be, when Mimi has to celebrate her little sister’s successful ceremony.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even know what kind of reaction is most appropriate for this sort of news, you’re compelled to go for your instinctive one, “She must feel terrible. They’ve been dating for so long.”</p><p class="p1">“I mean, yeah, but it always felt like they were doomed,” Doyoung retorts.</p><p class="p1">“What do you mean?”</p><p class="p1">“I mean considering how they got together, it was like there was a permanent black cloud.”</p><p class="p1">Confused completely by what he’s trying to insinuate, you grab him by the arm to stop him again, “What are you talking about?”</p><p class="p1">“He never told you?” Doyoung looks shocked for a second, before he nods in understanding, “I guess that’s not surprising. She asked him out on the day you went missing. Talk about a bad omen.”</p><p class="p1">Holy fuck. Of course Mimi had. If you’d been swept up by the magic of Changmin’s blossom ceremony — you, who had never once thought about your flower, or true love, or the person you were meant for before — then she must’ve been smashed by the hand of longing, finally compelled to confess her feelings to Jaehyun. And now you have the hindsight that he had found it as enchanting as you had, from his drunken confession at Mark’s going away party. It all makes sense now.</p><p class="p1">“I… I didn’t know that,” you admit, “I came back and they were already dating.”</p><p class="p1">“I never realized he actually liked her like that. Probably regrets it, haha,” Doyoung laughs awkwardly after his grimace, like he’s thankful that this happened to his friend and not to him. He’s pummeling blow after blow against you, you have literally no idea how you’re supposed to feel about any of this, beyond the incessant pounding of your heart that you’re sure he can see through your thin sweater.</p><p class="p1">Out of nowhere, Doyoung lowers his voice but still flashes you a mischievous grin, “Anyways, wait for me to leave before you rag on him.”</p><p class="p1">“What?” you cough, finally looking past his shoulder to see you’ve somehow made it all the way to the parking lot of the restaurant.Doyoung tilts his head in a surreptitious indication of the fact that you’re no longer alone, and as he strolls away, you’re left alone to brace yourself for what’s coming.</p><p class="p1">It’s only a dull acceptance that comes with the sight of Jaehyun and Mimi together on the sidewalk before you. They look mish-mashed together, her yellow dress clashing with his maroon button down, her fingers tucked into his elbow, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, shadows of exhaustion evident under his eyes. You suppose it would’ve felt bad to see them primly perfect in matching outfits like they usually are. Jeno had told you that he’d seen a blossom ceremony fail three times, and each time the relationship had fallen apart from the seams. It feels even worse to know they’re sticking it out in defiance, that their love had been true enough to not need a blossom ceremony to confirm. Must be so, so nice.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n?” Mimi must recognize the logo on your hat, putting together that she saw you and her boyfriend together backstage at Baekhyun’s fan sign, if her subtle look towards him is any indication. But she resumes her propriety and gives you an air kiss with an excited, “You’re back!”</p><p class="p1">You are practiced enough to take this concession, “Hi, Mimi. Good to see you.”</p><p class="p1">There’s an extreme tick of bumbling silence, where the three of you stand there and stare at each other, each unsure of what to anticipate, not daring to break the silence and face the consequences. Then, Jaehyun caves first, turning to Mimi and carefully instructing, “You go first, I’ll just be a second.” What an idiot. He shouldn’t have gone there, you’re going to get such a suspicious look…</p><p class="p1">“Okay babe,” Mimi takes you by surprise by acquiescing right away, standing on her tiptoes to brush a kiss against his mouth and then leaving you there alone on the sidewalk with Jaehyun.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun, whose flower has not blossomed.</p><p class="p1">Truly, what the fuck are you supposed to say to him right now. <em>I’m sorry for your loss? That’s what you deserve? How could you have ever thought that would work?</em> So much has changed for you in the past fifteen minutes, so much context has emerged, so much foundation has crumbled, that you’re overwhelmed with the decision of where to take this.</p><p class="p1">It should be an exciting notion, that his flower is still a precious seed, but it’s not at all. <em>A love doesn’t have to be true to be worth something</em>. That certainly rings true here — he hadn’t made a peony blossom but had continued to be with his long term girlfriend because he was that convinced they were meant to be together. He’d gotten married to you and not said a single word to her about that to her either.</p><p class="p1">He shuffles an aimless foot against the concrete, muttering, “What are you doing here?”</p><p class="p1">“I ran into Doyoung—,”</p><p class="p1">“Yo, Jung!” Yuta’s voice quakes into the space between you. You peer over your shoulder to see your friend walking up to the entrance, hand in hand with Seulgi, who waves right at you, “Y/n! Hi!”</p><p class="p1">Never have you been so grateful to be interrupted in this way, and you take Seulgi’s hug with an appreciative squeeze, “Hi! What are you guys doing here?”</p><p class="p1">“Had to postpone our date because of everything that happened the other day,” Yuta explains. Again, you feel such a rush of appreciation for the couple, who’d dropped their personal affairs to help out with your parents and their comrades.</p><p class="p1">“Your date?” Jaehyun questions, unaware of everything that’s been going on between the pair in his time spent apart from his friends. He shoots a loaded glance in your direction, daring you to reveal what you’ve been keeping from him, filled with the accusation, <em>Weren’t you two involved at some point?</em></p><p class="p1">“Seulgi, this is Jaehyun, one of my childhood friends,” Yuta does the required introductions, “Jaehyun, this is Seulgi, my girlfriend.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no reason for Jaehyun to be rude to Seulgi, he knows her from college, knows that Yuta is very particular with who he chooses to bring into his circle. And he also has no reason to be jealous about his friend anymore, because he’s under the impression you’ve chosen to be with Kyungsoo. He composes himself, then flashes her his dimpled smile, “Nice to meet you again.”</p><p class="p1">It’s a rather nondescript set of handshakes, but it pricks at your heart more than you thought it would. Yuta looks beyond proud to present Seulgi forth as the object of his affection. His puffed up chest and tiny, flushed grin have cast him into an extraordinarily handsome glow. What you wouldn’t give to be shown off like that, just once. </p><p class="p1">When Seulgi lifts her arm to brush a piece of hair out of Yuta’s face and back into his ponytail, one side of her tan jacket lifts off of her torso. You can’t help the little sigh that escapes you when you see the slip of peach organza underneath. She’s going to have a beautiful night tonight. Wearing the dress guaranteed that.</p><p class="p1">“Wait,” Jaehyun blurts, and Seulgi freezes with her hand on her boyfriend’s forehead. But he doesn’t continue talking to her, he turns right to you, “Did you give her that?”</p><p class="p1">You have no idea what the damn hell he’s talking about. At first, you stupidly think this is his roundabout way of asking if you’d given her permission to date a man you may or may not have been previously interested in. But your eyes snag upon his, his eyes traveling over Seulgi’s torso — not in a lewd manner, but in a discerning one, trying to figure out if she’s actually wearing the garment you’d made so long ago.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry, I borrowed—,”</p><p class="p1">You hold up your hand to prevent Seulgi making an apology on your behalf. There’s nothing to apologize for. You fix him with a fierce stare, that same flood of anger making its disturbing return, and sneer, “It’s just a dress.”</p><p class="p1">It’s not a wedding dress, it’s not white tulle covered in cotton candy buds, who is he to be acting like this? Like a fool, grabbing your arm to pull you out of earshot of the other couple and exclaiming, “Oh my god, I can’t believe you! I brought you that fabric all the way home from Spain and you just give it to someone else?!”</p><p class="p1">You suppose that was the first sinister curl of his fingers around you, when he’d paid the exorbitant overweight luggage fee to bring you an entire bolt of peach loveliness home. But that doesn’t mean you owe him anything now. Is this supposed to be some sort of commentary, the contrast of him supposedly buying you all these material gifts throughout the years, when you had sewn your little heart right into each handcrafted item you’d made for him? It’s easy to purchase something, to bend a sweet falsehood about the intentions behind it. It is far more honest to craft something with only the pure heft of affection. </p><p class="p1">“You never wanted me to make it in the first place!” you retort, knowing he and his buddies used to give you mad shit for daring to wear your creations on your own. “How many times did you tell me to show up in cabbage patch clothes, for what, a funny joke?! Because you hated being asked for my clothes?!”</p><p class="p1">“No, because you in that dress could make any fucking person irrelevant! How do you think Hanna felt, showing up at her own blossom ceremony knowing she’s not the most beautiful woman there?”</p><p class="p1">You want to say she probably didn’t give a single fuck about you, a girl she didn’t know. But you instead are caught up in the tripping tumble your heart takes at the surprise discovery of his true intentions for trying to hide you away all those times. Not because he’d been annoyed at being asked for your pieces, but because he’d been trying to control his greedy, childish, wanting mind. You have to believe he’s lying, you have to remain firm on the status quo so you're not hurt by him again.</p><p class="p1">Status quo with Jaehyun now is to be both primed for a fight and ready with a denial. And here you are, clashing in a shower of crippled sparks, “If I recall right, the fabric was a gift, meaning I can do whatever the fuck I want with it. Make a gown, wear it out, give it to Seulgi,<em> it’s whatever I want!</em>”</p><p class="p1">His hand is still around your arm, you feel the planned slide of his thumb across the arc of your bicep just as he hisses a repeat, “I got it <em>for you!</em>”</p><p class="p1">He’s not talking just about the dress, his amber eyes have given him away fully with the way they dip right to your left finger, where there’s a band in silver still present. There is not a shadow of a doubt that he’d expected to see a slip of gold traversing the expanse of your finger, truly the most conceited thing he’s ever dared let cross his mind.</p><p class="p1">“I never wanted you to,” you bite out, half truth, half lie.</p><p class="p1">For the second night in a row, you walk away from him without another glimpse at his impudent face. He’s hurt you for years now, he can afford to finally start taking retaliatory damage.</p><p class="p1">You want to tell yourself that you cherish having Mark back, seeing his soft, expecting, happy face through the window of the Mercedes when you let yourself inside. But you definitely can’t drum up that thought when the first thing out of his mouth is, “Were you fighting with your husband, Mrs. Jung?”</p><p class="p1">You hold up your middle finger while you put on your seatbelt, and threaten, “Mark, do not even start, I will throw you right out of your own car.” You hate, hate, hate that name, it's the worst, it's not you at all. </p><p class="p1">“Wait, were you actually,” he asks in confusion, glancing back to see Jaehyun walking away and then back to your displeased expression, “I was just joking, but maybe I should’ve known.”</p><p class="p1">It’s an awkward moment to be caught in, only inches away from having your extreme disdain for Jaehyun spilled into the car. Mark had come close to unveiling it all once before, and he is clearly champing at the bit to find out just what the hell had gone down between his two best friends. You hate keeping secrets from him, but there’s no universe in which you would tell Mark any of this, each and every unpretty detail.</p><p class="p1">He’s prepared to probe further, he’s bursting to, you know he can’t help it. But his phone pings quite loudly with a video call from Yunho. Mark answers, and his father’s assistant is winded on the other end, “Mr. Lee. There was a call from your father.” He notices you’re there too, and gives you a polite bow before revealing the contents of his communication with Michael, “He’s coming home.”</p><p class="p1">You and Mark collapse against each other over dash with relief, “Oh, thank god.”</p><p class="p1">You glance down to the phone, expecting to see the screen blank, Yunho gone after he’s passed the message off and disconnected the call. But he’s still there, very noticeable crack in his composed demeanor peeking through with the fidget of his hands against the device. You really think that after that torturous argument, nothing can affect you that deeply. But boy, oh, boy, are you wrong about that.</p><p class="p1">Yunho clears his throat, then lays it on you, “No, that’s not it. Premier Kim is coming to the mansion with him.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i know that literally 0 of you expected any of that. sound off in the comments, come say hi.</p><p>thank u, as always, for reading.</p><p>(i'm also kind of stuck on song suggestions, maybe i'll have a few more to make up next chapter)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. echinops bannaticus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Wait, we’re missing quite a vital piece up here with us,” Taeyeon’s composed tone wavers through the crowd. “Where is your son’s lovely wife?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>folks, i am feeling GREAT!!!!!!!!!! the us finally got their shit together (somewhat...) and boy are we having a good time lol. thanks for all your support, it meant a lot to me. here's hoping the politics in this story end up going well too HAHA ;)</p><p>Dorado map - ibb.co/S5VfGDD</p><p>Family tree of some of the characters, as requested - https://ibb.co/1XtfGPN</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">This is your territory, your domain, this is one of two places in this city where you should feel untouchable.</p><p class="p1">But instead, you feel a fraud, decked out in your finery but it lending no air of confidence to you. The back and forth stride of your legs gives way to the bouncing trepidation that’s filling you up, that has been bursting forth since you and Mark found out about this specific homecoming. There’s too much room for error tonight, and not enough breathing room, both metaphorically and literally — you’ve worn this gold dress before, but it’s seemed to have constricted around your torso more than you’d expected.Once Michael’s here, everything will be okay. No offense to your parents, but his is the comfort you need right now.</p><p class="p1">“Ms. Y/l/n.”</p><p class="p1">You hazard a glance up from your nervous pacing and nearly crash into a vase bursting with tulips when you see Jaehyun’s father in the hallway with you, not even attempting to hide his disgust. You want to press yourself into the wall behind you and dissolve away, or flee down the corridor in fear. This is the one reunion you were most dreading, hoping that you would somehow be able to avoid.</p><p class="p1">“Sir,” you greet him with a gentle incline of your head as you stuff your hands behind your back. You wouldn’t put it past him to hone right in on a certain piece of gold jewelry you have on and figure it all out for himself. Truth be told, you’d felt very foolish twisting the glimmer of silver off to exchange it for one of gold, and had spent the entire time getting ready convincing yourself you had only done it to match your outfit properly.</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t realize you were back in Neozone,” he says, quite clearly displeased but working hard to conceal it.</p><p class="p1">You match his disdain with some of your own, “I am part of Michael’s family. My place is by their side.”</p><p class="p1">It’s a dogfight now as Mr. Jung goes fully sarcastic with what he says next, irked beyond belief by your audacity to continue tying yourself to Michael, “Well, the region is certainly blessed to have you as our icon, to promote the prestige of our metropolis.”</p><p class="p1">What a fucking crock of shit.</p><p class="p1">“Regent Jung.”</p><p class="p1">You’re interrupted before you’re battered down any further by the Regent’s harsh words. You don’t have to look to know your savior has arrived, you could pick Michael’s fatherly voice out from a crowd of thousands if you had to. You feel an arm come around your shoulder, and Jaehyun’s father stiffens at the sight of your united front.</p><p class="p1">As usual, he caves out of propriety and bows to the man by your side, “Vice Premier.”</p><p class="p1">“Give me a moment with my kid, please, Jefferson,” Michael waves him off, and you can tell his description of you is endlessly bothersome to the other politician. Regent Jung’s nose wrinkles with distaste, but he is in no position to disrespect the man of the house to his face.</p><p class="p1">“Hi, kiddo,” Michael murmurs when you’re alone, pressing a kiss against your temple as he hugs you into his side. “Good to see you again.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t help your soft whine, “I missed you.”</p><p class="p1">“You too, sweetheart,” he holds you even more fiercely, not letting go, even as he continues the conversation. “Are things okay?”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t just mean things with you and his son, he means with every other person that’d been offered refuge at his home. Besieged by festivity preparation, you, plus John, Mark, and Yuta, with Yunho and Heechul, had been an incredible task force of establishing protection. You needed to conceal the Elyxion citizens from the prying eyes of Pandora that would be arriving. On a night when you didn’t see the light on in Jaehyun’s home, Yuta had gotten some of his military buddies to surreptitiously disable the security cameras in front of your home and his apartment. Then, you’d shuttled people one by one or in unnoticeable groups to where they’d lay low until it was safe again.</p><p class="p1">You wish you could’ve savored the poignant moment, of having your parents inside the place you’d called home for the past several years, but time was of the essence. You could only kiss them on the cheek and hope they found the stellaria as lovely as you did, before you were off again to help Yuta and Seulgi.</p><p class="p1">You keep your voice muted as you tell him this, “Yeah. We sent some of them to Yuta’s, and I took Mom and Dad plus the rest to mine. No one’s here.”</p><p class="p1">“Good.”</p><p class="p1">With proper precautions in place, you can no longer wait to ask why he’d sent Mark here without him, why the Premier was visiting out of the blue, “What’s going on—,”</p><p class="p1">“Shh,” he hisses, pressing your face into his jacket so you can’t say more. “We can’t talk about anything here tonight. I will come to your home tomorrow and see everyone then. Not right now.”</p><p class="p1">The tremble of his torso where your head is resting gives away that he’s nervous. But unlike you, he has no good reason to be. There’s been no inherent threat against his life as of late, and now that you know Regent Oh is his wife’s foster brother, you’re fairly certain he risks no further danger at the hands of Elyxion. Yet still, here the two of you are, both shaking with ill concealed anxiety.</p><p class="p1">Michael holds you at arm’s length, to finally look upon you again for the first time in months, seeing you all grown up in the gold gown you’d worn to Jaehyun’s birthday party. You swear his eyes go glassy when he compliments you, “Your hair looks very pretty like that.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you.” You take his hand, and together, you stroll along towards the ballroom.</p><p class="p1">He smiles tenderly down at you, his parental instincts coming out as he says, “I saw that my nephew had a picture of you on his phone the day of the announcement.”</p><p class="p1">Your heart pings with the tender little reminder of Kyungsoo’s affection for you. Kyungsoo, the kind of man who keeps a photo of you on his phone, just because. You’re unsure if Mark’s father knows the extent of your relationship with the man newly discovered as his nephew, so you have to go about this carefully, “Michael, has he been… has he been okay?”</p><p class="p1">His footsteps halt right outside the door to the festivities, and so do his words, “I. I wouldn’t know.”</p><p class="p1">“What?” you blurt, baffled by his lack of knowledge. You were sure Michael and Mark were the first people Kyungsoo would’ve gone to see. But now that you think about it, Mark has barely mentioned his friend, now cousin, to you. Odd.</p><p class="p1">“I cannot talk about it here,” Michael repeats, before he ducks his head close to your ear and whispers, “But I only saw him then, not at his arrival, and not again.”</p><p class="p1">You’re stunned silent. Michael only saw Kyungsoo once? That has to be a mistake, but somehow it’s not. Michael's already said he has an explanation for it - one that is not safe enough to tell you here, with a hundred people on the other side of the wall. You were dumb to think he didn’t have a reason to be nervous.</p><p class="p1">“I think you know how you’re supposed to act tonight. Take care to do so,” he offers, in what should be a polite suggestion, but is a stark warning right to you.</p><p class="p1">You must become the unassuming icon of Neozone again, that girl who hadn’t a clue she was from Elyxion, the woman who could laugh and flirt and charm the intimidation right out of Premier Kim. When the doors open, you blink once, a slow affirmation that you understand what Michael is telling you, and then you send him off into a round of applause from the partygoers. Once you’re confronted with the mass of people you cannot trust, you know exactly what you’re going to do first.</p><p class="p1">Your friends are the clichéd center of your universe, it doesn’t take you long to find them lounged over a chaise in a corner of the room.Dressed in their not-quite-formal-but-fancy-enough blazers, they come off completely uninterested with the hoopla surrounding them. Before anyone can accost you, you stalk over to that area and sink down onto the small square of furniture by John’s feet. But when you’re met with silence, and not overt reactions or swooning over your appearance as often came with these formal events, you realize you’ve mistaken deep-seated worry for casual indifference.</p><p class="p1">As you’re want to do, you attempt first to lighten the mood, “What’s died over here?”</p><p class="p1">Mark looks up from his phone to kick at his friend’s leg with his dress shoe and joke back, “John’s soul.”</p><p class="p1">“What happened?” you ask, tugging on Johnny’s pant leg when he doesn’t lift his head from where it’s buried in a pillow to laugh or otherwise gripe at Mark. You feel bad that you haven’t been able to sit with him and talk much about what had happened in Zero Mile, but this sort of demeanor is out of character for for him.</p><p class="p1">“Every time I look up I think I see Dad,” Johnny groans after he gives in and sits up, rubbing at his face with both his hands out of stress, “and I literally also think I shit my pants.”</p><p class="p1">That’s understandable, you take back everything you just said. You’d recklessly snatched John right out of Siwon Choi’s mansion without a second thought of how General Suh would react when he was given the news of his son’s disobedience from a subordinate. And with all these Pandora and Neozone hotshots looming in the ballroom right now, it’s expected that he would be anxiously awaiting his consequences.</p><p class="p1">“You need to chill dude. Father says there’s still been no word from them,” Yuta mutters, in an attempt to be helpful, but the quake in his voice directly contrasts the unbothered demeanor he’s trying to present.</p><p class="p1">John does not miss the opportunity to point that out, “I mean, you look like shit too, dude, don’t judge!”</p><p class="p1">“I had to hide my girlfriend from everyone! Including Father!” Yuta reminds him of the mad scramble you’d completed. Seulgi had wanted to stay by your side as she’d promised her father, but she’d do you no good if she was caught being in the region out of turn. So, she’d gone with your parents to your house instead of staying at Yuta’s. Though Lt. General Nakamoto was the most easygoing of the other parents, they still didn’t want to hazard the risk of telling him the truth.</p><p class="p1">“And me, hello?” John pushes back, their boyish back and forth a familiar comfort in the tense environment. “I’m your best friend! You didn’t tell me any of it!”</p><p class="p1">“Just like neither of you two told me Jae’s blossom ceremony went to shit. I had to find that out from Doyoung when we caught up just now,” Mark enters the conversation out of nowhere and your hand clutches at your own elbow to keep yourself under control. You didn’t know he hadn’t known, but why did he have to bring it up now, with everything else that is going on?</p><p class="p1">You have no option but to employ as much nonchalant sarcasm as you can, “Yeah, I would’ve appreciated the gossip.”</p><p class="p1">Mark lifts an eyebrow, registered in your periphery from where you are decidedly not meeting his eyes. That eyebrow rockets to the height of the Empire State Building when John lets out this huge cackle, “You wanted to know? You two can’t stand each other, that’s why I never said anything!” If one thing can come from this, it’s that at least one of your friends still believes that spun lie.</p><p class="p1">“Not as much as those two, though,” Yuta adds on. You don’t register he’s talking about actual people here in the ballroom with you until there’s no follow up sentence. Like you’re a flock of hungry seagulls, the four of you blatantly turn your heads to look, and like every other goddamn time, you really shouldn’t have done so.</p><p class="p1">Stuffed into the corner across the way, right next to an amphora overflowing with dried globe thistle, are Mimi and Jaehyun. But they're not the Mimi and Jaehyun you know. They must be doppelgängers, because you’ve rarely seen them with anything but gushy, sickening puppy love on their faces. Right now, they are possessed by twin flames of loathing as they glare at each other.</p><p class="p1">They’re not even trying to be subtle about it, you can hear it pretty plainly when Mimi gripes, “Jaehyun, what are you wearing? I told you to wear a pink jacket so we can match!”</p><p class="p1">This is the second instance of them being dressed up in outfits that are unpleasantly clashing - her in a pastel salmon tea-length dress, him in a muted gold overcoat with a black dress shirt underneath. And it’s not only the outfit he has on that is hideous, the pissed-off expression he’s wearing is so unbecoming on his handsome face. It’s quite a change from the personas of infatuation they usually present.</p><p class="p1">You’re not the only one who picks up on it, because John rips on one friend as he teases the other, nudging Yuta in the side and drawling, “If your blossom ceremony didn’t work, yet your girlfriend forced you to keep dating her, you wouldn’t be able to stand her either, dude.”</p><p class="p1">“Fine, I’ll take it off, god damn!” Jaehyun groans in exasperation, proving John’s point, throwing his hands up in the air and beginning to unbutton his blazer, in an effort to end the fight with his girlfriend.</p><p class="p1">“It’s so atrocious to watch, I can’t,” Johnny laughs, him and Mark unable to remove their eyes from the train wreck, both of them awaiting the popcorn that should’ve been served with this drama.</p><p class="p1">“What is that that you’re wearing?”</p><p class="p1">At Mimi’s vexed gasp, Yuta turns to Mark and begins what should be a very comical, mocking role-play, “Marco, what are you wearing? I told you to wear the blue dress so we can match! It really brings out the earth tones in your hair and the jewel-like sparkle in your eyes!”</p><p class="p1">But there is no way a single note of laughter can come out of your throat right now. Not when you see what Jaehyun has on underneath the blasted gold blazer.</p><p class="p1">What Jaehyun has on underneath the blasted gold blazer is a garment of bewitching black silk, melded perfectly against the chiseled sinews of his frame. You can’t see much more than a strutting paw, embroidered into the seam of the sleeve. One that had given you quite a bit of trouble to complete. The strutting paw belongs to a grandiose, golden lion, snarling down from his shoulder on the very, very, very, very first shirt you’d ever sewn him. He’s wearing it. That shirt.</p><p class="p1">“Bee,” Mark whispers, voice garbled like he’s speaking to you through the thickly lined walls of a leadened, protective vault you’re enclosed in. “Did you make that?”</p><p class="p1">Yes. Yes, you did.</p><p class="p1">Following next is a whirlwind of motion, a cyclone of gold chiffon blowing its way around your legs as you jet off over to him in a hurry. You don’t even register your nails baring down into the exposed skin of his arm, your preternatural strength pulling him into a secluded part of the room, until your ears prick with his harsh outburst, “Agh, what the hell?”</p><p class="p1">You never thought you would be privileged enough to see him wear it, not at all. So your shock comes out crudely, with the bursting beat of your heart, “Why the fuck are you wearing that?!”</p><p class="p1">“I was late, this was the first thing I grabbed!” Jaehyun tosses the excuse out, yanking his arm out of your grasp. But he seriously should’ve tried harder with that one.</p><p class="p1">“Right, it’s five years old, so it just<em> happened </em>to be in the front of your closet and you just <em>happened</em> to accessorize it with a perfectly matching jacket and gold jewelry, come on dude!”</p><p class="p1">At your sardonic words, Jaehyun glances down to his outfit and lets out a grimace that indirectly confirms what you’re assuming. There’s no way he could’ve thrown together this apathetic perfection together without searching it out - the top three buttons aren't done up, exposing his pale neck where the gold links of his necklace are glittering with boldness, there's even a matching bracelet around his wrist, barely enclosing the veins that have popped out of his muscled forearm. How can he keep doing this to you? How can you ever attempt to take responsibility for your feelings when he does this so often, show up looking beautiful and yours, when he has no right to be either.</p><p class="p1">You didn’t intend to turn this into a fight, not really, but he thinks you are because lately you’ve only been able to communicate in arguments. And argue he does, not holding back anything, “Okay, so what if I wore it? As I recall, it was a gift, meaning I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.”</p><p class="p1">You should be incensed that Jaehyun’s dared to throw your words back at him this way. But a niggling thought you can’t escape takes hold of you, something you’ve wondered ever since an old conversation with John, “You stopped wearing my clothes for so long! I have no idea why you decided to start again!”</p><p class="p1">He’d worn your lion tie to Changmin’s blossom ceremony, and that was the last day you’d seen one of your creations upon his body. He’d erased all traces of your magnanimous heart, and had apparently even told John to stop wearing his tie. None of that jives with seeing him since you’ve gotten back, when he’s been wearing one of your garments each time you’ve crossed paths.</p><p class="p1">“I stopped wearing them because I knew seeing your sewing hurt you! Especially because of No!” Jaehyun admits, maybe the worst, best explanation he could’ve had for his behavior. Of course that’s why he stopped, why he tried to get the other boys to stop as well. He had always, always, always, known your unspoken feelings about Jeno better than you did. He’s as breathless as you are then, directing a siege right at to the crumbling fortifications that have stood watch over you, “A-and then you were gone, and I had all these shirts in my closet, how could I not wear them again and think of you?”</p><p class="p1">There’s one way you could take this, to look Jaehyun in the eye and give him your most ferocious snarl, <em>Because it makes me look like a fucking idiot, showing up here in a dress that matches you! </em>But you can’t, not after that. Not after seeing the harmonious synchrony of the golden threads you’d stitched upon that shirt with the supple amber of your gown, two separate rays of a sunrise spinning themselves into your clothes. It’s everywhere, in the honey of his hair, the flecks of aurora in his haunting eyes, the lemon slice of the reemerging affection for him you’d kept quashed away for so long. The coil of sunshine twisted around your left ring finger.</p><p class="p1">“Everyone please rise for Premier Kim, and his son, Kyungsoo.”</p><p class="p1">Like a switch has flipped, your present conversation with Jaehyun careens to the wayside. Your eyes on the mane of the lion on his shoulder go unfocused, your mouth haphazardly mumbling, “Bumble. Bumb— Mark. Was he supposed to come, too?”</p><p class="p1">Mark must’ve walked straight over once the majordomo announced the visitors because he immediately answers your question, coming across as dazed as you feel, “No, Yunho said only Dad and the Premier.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t look, not yet, but Jaehyun’s severe face looming in your vision as he stares past you is enough to confirm that Kyungsoo is indeed behind your turned head. There are two lions dueling inside of you right now, mirroring the predators on the shirt before you — one aches for you to spin in place, to cast your eye upon your not-husband-boyfriend and let your heart fill with the warmth that only he seems to be able to provide. But its more savage counterpart is roaring at you to stay hidden in this corner, to let the unexpected fear consume you. Ever since Kyungsoo appeared on screen with his father, there’s been something off with the idea of him.</p><p class="p1">“Hello all, please be at ease,” Premier Kim’s warm voice rings out into the room, “so lovely to have you here with us!”</p><p class="p1">One of the dozen reporters milling about sets right to it with their business, calling out, “Sir, let’s get a photo for the papers first please!”</p><p class="p1">The Premier must really want to have his picture-perfect photo op, because he takes charge in instructing everyone, “Come up here, Michael. You too, Mark.”A trail of gooseflesh scatters across your neck when you realize Premier Kim’s gaze has probably just crossed the expanse of your back without noticing it’s yours. You train your view on Jaehyun’s shirt; you’ll keep your gaze turned not out of impoliteness, but out of self-preservation.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, we’re missing quite a vital piece up here with us,” Taeyeon’s composed tone wavers through the crowd. “Where is your son’s lovely wife?”</p><p class="p1">An icicle shard of terror stabs into the base of your spine.</p><p class="p1">“Jae,” you gasp involuntarily.</p><p class="p1">If you’d been in the front row, the snap of Jaehyun’s neck would’ve given you away fully, the way his eyes hone in right on you, gripped with the same hand of paralyzing alarm.You’re both petrified with possibility, of what might happen if either of you were to make the wrong move right now. Vaguely, Premier Kim’s words come to your ears, <em>I heard she was from the city, she must be here tonight. Come on out, honey, don’t be shy</em>, but you cannot be tempted by the siren call only you can hear. One look is all they need, to take you to Pandora, to take you to the place you absolutely cannot return to.</p><p class="p1">“Jae,” you whisper, fingers fumbling for the cool slip of silk, “Jae.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m here,” he murmurs, sympathetic, worried little smile tugging at his lips.</p><p class="p1">His hand stops your tremors when it envelops yours, an anchoring lighthouse in the middle of a frenzied maelstrom. You have your fingers braided through his when he starts to move, to lead you towards the door, his free hand landing solidly on your waist as a cincture of reassurance. You’ll indulge in a sprinkle of fantasy to block out the fear, that you’re a regular couple leaving a party early to head home because you simply cannot be with anyone but each other.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n.”</p><p class="p1">Damn your body for its automatic response to the sound of your name. You freeze in Jaehyun’s hold, the side of your face catching against the edge of his bicep. Your nose runs ragged over the obsidian silk when you twist your neck to look back over Jaehyun’s arm, and see Kyungsoo there. </p><p class="p1">Here he is — the first time you’ve seen him in the haze of lost weeks — beyond handsome, his plain black blazer and white button down differing starkly from Jaehyun’s finery. But perhaps he doesn’t even register the turned back of the person you’re standing with, because he singles out you, and you only. “Father. Here is my wife.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s hand strangles the life out of yours.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim’s face splits into a pleased grin when he registers the mystery woman as you and your new haircut, “Ms. Y/l/n?” He nudges Kyungsoo’s shoulder, their evenhanded demeanors nauseatingly similar, “Son, we’ve known each other for some time now!”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to move and stand by his side, but you can only press yourself further into the frame of the man beside you instead. How can you silently communicate to Jaehyun that you can’t do this right now, that he needs to take charge, situation be damned, and save you from this? Your left hand comes to clutch at his arm, to steady your nerves out and face the noise alone. With the gesture, he catches the flash of gold newly placed upon your finger there. Turns out, that’s all you needed, a supposed foolish decision to wear one ring instead of the other.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun flashes you this breathtaking, unbelievable, <em>I just can’t believe you’re you</em> smile, then turns to position himself in front of you, in a stature of dominant protection. He clears his throat, forcing his deep voice to come out perfectly unblemished, “How can she be your wife if she’s married to me?”</p><p class="p1">You’ve arrived at the pinnacle of the comedy that is your life, judging by the amalgamation of responses you get from the patrons at the surprise announcement. John and Yuta don’t react much, because they were there when the decision was made, but Mark shoots you a very pointed, sly grin. On the other hand, Doyoung, Haechan, Lucas, and the usual girls are all absolutely dumbfounded, mouths hung open, the same with their parents’. The military leaders are whispering to each other, Yunho is awkwardly tugging at the collar of his jacket, even Taeyeon’s placid face has quirked with interest. Mimi? Well, she’s plainly destroyed, face aghast and cheeks already slippery with tears as she watches the pair of you together. But none of these reactions actually matter, because there are only two that do.</p><p class="p1">The first belongs to Premier Kim, whose eyebrows have practically shot into his forehead with unexpecting intrigue. And then there’s Kyungsoo, who actually looks like he might burst into a raucous round of laughter. Jaehyun remains unfazed through all of it, keeping one arm wrapped around your front, tucking you into him so you’re exposed minimally to the outsiders.</p><p class="p1">“Married to <em>you</em>?” Kyungsoo scoffs to Jaehyun, and yup, there’s the disbelieving smile, “That’s a good one, Mr. Jung, I thank you for being the entertainment for this evening.”</p><p class="p1">“Sir, I apologize to you on behalf of my son, who’s clearly not feeling well now.” You’d nearly forgotten Regent Jung was present, and it is obvious he is beyond appalled with what’s unfolding, through the tight hold of his mouth, incessant wiping of his sweaty brow, and blatant interruption of your tense back and forth.</p><p class="p1">You’re the one thing Kyungsoo can see in this melee, his gentle plea is only for you to hear, “Y/n, come here.” Honeyed poison, the lure of what is now forbidden fruit.</p><p class="p1">“No,” Jaehyun bites, sensing your innate distress and tightening his hold on your hip. “She is my wife, registered at the Ministry.”</p><p class="p1">That sets off the second wave of frenzy, no one trying to hide their utter shock at the grave validity of your marriage. Through Regent Jung’s splutters, your eyes flick over to where Michael is now standing by Mark, craters of relief evident under his eyes as he mouths, <em>good thinking, kiddo.</em></p><p class="p1">“Jefferson, is this true?”</p><p class="p1">“Absolutely not, sir—,”</p><p class="p1">“It is true,” a third, booming voice, stamps itself over the conversation between Premier Kim and Jaehyun’s father. You peek over Jaehyun’s shoulder to see Minister Lee there in his pearl robe, hands neatly folded in front of him as he addresses the other men. He’s here as required, all the high Ministers show up for formal events like this one. But surely he did not expect to be your saving grace, with his short interlude, “These two souls have been joined in matrimony under my hand, registered legally within the regional ordinances of Neozone, and Neozone only.”</p><p class="p1">In the eyes of the law, you are his, and he is yours.</p><p class="p1">Mr. Jung’s fuse is one nanothread away from erupting as he loses all sense of propriety to spit, “What the fuck—”</p><p class="p1">“Now, now, Jefferson, please calm down,” Michael smoothly interjects as he steps through the crowd with his full authority. Already giving you his undivided support, he tries to talk the other man back down from the ledge, “If the marriage is legally registered already, do you want to take up the nonsense that comes with a formal protest at the Ministry?”</p><p class="p1">“Absolutely I do!” Regent Jung shouts, then gestures Jaehyun over with an angry wave of his hand. “Get over here!”</p><p class="p1">The man in front of you only shakes his head, “No.”</p><p class="p1">Taeyeon materializes out of nowhere, to smooth things over as is her perpetual job, “Perhaps we could all have a private discussion, then. So as not to sully the festivities of your homecoming, Michael.”</p><p class="p1">Recognizing he needs to get you out of this heated spotlight, he nods first to Heechul, “Mr. Kim, start serving the wine.” Then, he gestures towards the pair of doors, “This way, please. We can speak in the hallway.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun remains undeterred from his mission to keep you safe, he pushes past the guards and the other adults with your hand firmly ensnared in his, giving them no opportunity to snatch you away from him. Like you’re a pristine tulip in one of the vases, he arranges you in front of one of the marble columns, and once again places himself right in the thick of the scrutiny. You know it must not be easy for him to do so, considering he’s only stoking the flame of his father’s rage higher. You don’t know why he’s being this self-sacrificing, though you do appreciate it.</p><p class="p1">You’re the epicenter of this quake, it is on you to take responsibility for the consequences of your actions. But you’re so bogged down by the weight of the stares that you can only sheepishly start out with giving Premier Kim a weak, “Well, I certainly wouldn’t have imagined this would be the circumstances that we would reunite in. My apologies, sir.”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t seem that mad, more baffled at the discrepancy between your story and his son’s, “Ms. Y/l/n, would you mind clearing up for us what exactly is going on here?”</p><p class="p1">When your fingers tighten around Jaehyun’s, Regent Jung bristles so loudly his discontent could be heard all the way in Elyxion. It nearly drowns out your soft reply, “Mr. Jung is indeed my husband.” And your voice can still go softer still, shy, yet firm denial nearly getting lost in the breadth of Jaehyun’s back, “I was never espoused previously, so I am not sure what Mr. Do is speaking about.”</p><p class="p1">That, of all things, is what gets Kyungsoo to show the first crack of realization —your blatant denial of what had almost happened back in the Elyxion Regent’s office. The crack only splinters further, the whites of his eyes trembling as his father turns to him, stern, “But you said that you got married.” Yes, Kyungsoo, pray tell the reason everyone is seemingly under the impression that you had actually gotten married to him. Your previous desires are irrelevant, the fact of the matter is that you were never his wife. </p><p class="p1">“I said I <em>intended</em> to get married,” Kyungsoo mutters, in a manner that does not reveal if he’s truthful or lying, “which is why I could not entertain an arrangement otherwise.”</p><p class="p1">“And Ms. Y/l/n was who you were intending to marry?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” Kyungsoo answers, just as there’s an answer in the opposite, “No.”</p><p class="p1">“God damn it! Stop it!” Mr. Jung exclaims in exasperation, pinpointing that the source of the contradictory answer had come from Jaehyun. Stressed out at his son’s defiance to the point, Mr. Jung cannot stop rubbing at his hair, like he’s trying to reach his son through telepathy.</p><p class="p1">“No, Dad, I’m not going to stop. It was always intended to be me and her, and <em>nobody else</em>,” Jaehyun states firmly, the meaning of his words lost on no one, least of all you. This is really the most inappropriate time for you to start getting worked up, but you’ve lost all pretense of self-control around him a long time ago. <em>Me and her, me and her,</em> you’re starting to come aglow, despite it all.</p><p class="p1">“You want to call Daehyun Kim nobody else?!”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sure your relationship with Mimi’s father will survive on your own merits, not mine.”</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim looks over to Mr. Jung, back to Michael, to you and Jaehyun still pressed together, and his forehead furrows. “Honestly, I’m not quite sure what to make of all this.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not, either. Tossing away Mimi had come way too easily for him just then. Not to mention the passing comment about her father.</p><p class="p1">Michael puts a hand on his comrade’s shoulder, and makes his move on your behalf, “Kyungho, they’re kids still, not everything has to be some kind of well thought out political scheme. These things happen.” You are at the mercy of hoping Premier Kim isn’t a hypocritical man. He’d been swept up in a fantastical romance once before, the proof is standing right before you.</p><p class="p1">“The timing of such events are indeed fortuitous for all, sir,” Taeyeon chimes in, an ally you didn’t expect to have in this. She’s never given you a reason to doubt her, no matter how shady her husband might seem, and you’ll take her offering with as much grace as you can.</p><p class="p1">She closes her eyes for a moment, as if she’s imagining a tableau of a particular something, and continues on, “Not only will your son now be able to make an advantageous match, the young Mr. Jung has also made us an ally through his wife. They will become the quintessential example of how our regions can exist in harmony together.” When her eyelids blink open, her gaze flashes feral and catlike for only a moment, before she looks right at you and proclaims, “A beloved son of Neozone, with a steadfast daughter of Elyxion.”</p><p class="p1">You’re going to have to apologize to Jaehyun later, for your nails drawing blood when they cut into his palm. Everybody knows. Everybody in this circle knows, there is not a single shocked face standing before you, Jaehyun, Regent Jung, Kyungsoo, Taeyeon, Michael, and Premier Kim, they all know the truth. You want to yell at her, to scream that you’re a daughter of Neozone as much as anything, by calling you that they’re erasing your father’s heritage. But you suppose that one drop of corrupted blood is all that matters.</p><p class="p1">How do they know? Why aren’t they striking you down? What is Regent Jung waiting for? All of these questions remain unanswered, as you stand there in silence, anticipating the next person’s move. And it sure looks like Kyungsoo might break first, if the abject horror that has finally broken through on his face means anything.</p><p class="p1">His father beats him to the punch, satisfied smile the only thing you get, “Smart thinking, Ms. Kim.” He slaps his old friend on the back, in congratulations, “Jefferson, we need to get these two on a news report ASAP.”</p><p class="p1">Both you and Jaehyun suck in a simultaneous breath, neither of you able to forget what sort of meltdown awaits if you are placed in front of a camera.</p><p class="p1">“Of course,” Michael blocks the space between the two men so they can’t discuss you without him present. “We can sort this out during our time here. But we cannot keep our guests waiting for much longer. Otherwise they might send out the reporters themselves.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, yes, we need to get the Pandora wine cracked open!” Premier Kim agrees affably.</p><p class="p1">You exhale that held breath, knowing the interrogation has come to a close for now.Michael extends your sensation of relief by gathering up the Premier and Taeyeon, and ushering them back to the ballroom without letting them have one last go at you. But he only has two hands, he doesn’t have a third to scoop up Regent Jung.</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun, now,” he orders, only trying the verbal command once.</p><p class="p1">When Jaehyun does the same thing he’s been doing all night, standing pat in rebellion, the fuse explodes. Alone and dangerous, you have no defense for Regent Jung stalking up and literally wrenching his son out of your grasp. You stumble over your heels, at maximum emotional and physical vulnerability, and a hand around your arm is the only thing that keeps your face from meeting the floor, keeps you upright long enough to catch Jaehyun’s yearning face cast backwards over his shoulder.</p><p class="p1">The doors to the ballroom slam shut, and with the echo of the bang comes a quiet word, “Hi.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a guard in the alcove to your right, and another three windows down, but you can’t not hug Kyungsoo right now. You press your face right into his chest, imbuing yourself with every molecule of his intoxicating, piquant cologne. This is him, it’s Kyungsoo, it’s no different from when he’d hug you before tumbling into bed together, from every time he’d soak up your tears into the eden of his heart. </p><p class="p1">“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, words muffled by his jacket. “I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay,” he whispers back, hand grazing the ends of your hair in comfort.</p><p class="p1">“No, it’s not okay, I just,” you lift your chin onto his shoulder, trying to search for some clarity in this ocean of shit. “I don’t even know.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo sets about taking care of you in his usual way, pressing one of his palms to your cheek and murmuring, “Are you alright?” Your hand comes to grasp his on your face, but when you give him no other answer, he feels compelled to press further, “I asked you to come to Pandora. Why didn’t you, I thought you’d come right away.”</p><p class="p1">He knows. He knows why you couldn’t come. So why is he asking you this? There was a burst of feelings unleashed upon seeing him again, but now you find yourself compelled to hold back, towering dam slammed shut across that rush. The Pandora guards lingering about aren’t necessarily his fault, but you hope he can pick up on your silent reticence to explain your actions. One small flick of your eyes to the mahogany door is all that’s needed to give you away.</p><p class="p1">“Because of him?” Kyungsoo questions when he picks up on the motion. You’d looked to the ballroom, to where Mark’s father is, because it is due to his youngest son’s existence that you cannot ever go back to the capital. But you know the<em> him</em> in Kyungsoo's question is not in reference to the Vice Premier.</p><p class="p1">You tuck your left hand out of view, into the folds of your skirt, and shake your head, “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh come on, y/n, you have to try harder than that to fool me,” Kyungsoo teases, still unbelieving that you’d actually entered into a marriage. “Tell me the real reason why you made this whole thing up.”</p><p class="p1">"I didn’t make it up.”</p><p class="p1">“Like you think I actually believe that, good one. You should’ve gone with Johnny, hell, even Mark, if you wanted to convince me you got married only because you loved someone else. You two <em>hate</em> each other.”</p><p class="p1"><em>We don’t.</em> “We do.”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">“We do,” you repeat, trying to add more force into your words, but more likely coming across like a complete fool, “Hate each other.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo seems to find your nervousness cute, because he pokes you in the cheek and eggs you on, “You can say it you know, that you still see Regent Jung’s son for what he is, a gigantic asshole.” And he still doesn’t get that this is serious, because he continues to joke, “Otherwise you’re gonna to have to give me a little bit more than a <em>we do.”</em></p><p class="p1">Call you a stupid-ass idiot, a fucking clown, a dumb bitch, whatever, you’re almost certain it’s impossible for you to actually hate Jaehyun in any capacity. Not now, not at any point in your life. You’re almost certain it’s impossible to hate the person who’s made your flower blossom. Hating him just wouldn’t make sense.</p><p class="p1">At yet another non-answer, Kyungsoo finally drops the humorous overtone and leans his face into yours, concerned, “You’re making me worried now. Did something happen?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” you whisper. You press the pad of your thumb right into one of the diamonds in your ring, and then your fingers go to tug at the skin of your palm. It’s not one thing, it’s far too many things, built right into the soil of your crumbling flowerpot.</p><p class="p1">“You’re lying,” Kyungsoo challenges, eyes darting down to your fingers and back up. “You always do that thing with your hands when you’re nervous. What could possibly be that bad that you can’t tell me?”</p><p class="p1">Keep your goddamn mouth shut if you know what’s good for you, y/n.</p><p class="p1">“Nothing happened.”</p><p class="p1">He laughs again, with very little humor, and much, much cynicism, “What, did your flower blossom or some—,”</p><p class="p1">You stop him from speaking the only way you can, by sealing a kiss across his depraved mouth. You do not care if the Pandora guards will go straight to Premier Kim with what they’ve seen, you cannot have Kyungsoo saying such a thing, saying such unspeakable truths. If you block his mouth with yours, if you take this moment to be lewd and slip your tongue past his parted lips, you will derail his train of thought so perfectly. There will be no talk of flowers, or Jaehyun, or anything that shouldn’t matter to you anymore, it’ll just be you and Kyungsoo, like it had been at the lake house in Elyxion.</p><p class="p1">You graze at the apex of his lower lip, then remove your mouth from his for a second to instruct him softly, “Please. Just be quiet.” Then, you dive for another kiss, throwing your arms around his neck as he sweeps you into his hold, lifting you up so your toes skim across the floor. You’re a master manipulator at this point, but it’s hard for you to give a damn while caught in this hurricane of emotions, the remorse and the longing and the relief plus confusion and desperation all cropping up throughout you.</p><p class="p1">“Not that I mind, because I don’t,” he murmurs, punctuating his statement by taking his sweet, sweet time to drag his mouth from one angle to the next in another kiss. “But should you be doing this?”</p><p class="p1">You raise a flirtatious eyebrow, knowing he can’t control himself right now, “Should I not be? Do you mean because of the guards?”</p><p class="p1">“No.” He juts his chin out, a nanometer’s worth of an extension, to a spot in the corridor behind you.</p><p class="p1">To where Jaehyun and Mimi are standing, having clearly seen all of that just now.</p><p class="p1">If she is the epitome of dumbfounded, her mouth gaping and eyes wide as she stares, Jaehyun is the pinnacle of enraged right now, face beet red and teeth bared in a pained grimace. You’re about to flood with guilt, but then, you catch their positioning — him hovering over her like they’re lovers caught in a dalliance, and you notice that she has her hand clasped around his forearm, in a stance that’s far too intimate for casual happenstance. You know that he hadn’t told her a single fucking thing, that she found out with the rest of everyone inside. And your battered heart comes to the conclusion that had all been an act.</p><p class="p1">“She’s still his <em>girlfriend</em>,” you whisper, half to Kyungsoo, half to convince yourself of reality, a reminder that you’d been playing at fantastical nonsense for the past few hours.</p><p class="p1">Doyoung had told you himself, they’d continued to date after their failed blossom ceremony, Mimi had done so too, when she’d hissed at Jaehyun in her displeasure that they weren’t matching. And you should’ve known it when he’d called her <em>babe</em> the day after your marriage was registered. No matter the outside pressure, whatever role his father has played in this, Jaehyun has chosen Mimi time after time after time. It’s literal insanity for you to keep doing this again and again, each time using up every bit of you hoping it would turn out a different way.</p><p class="p1">You were far, far too bold to claim that you could never hate Jaehyun. Because to see him there with Mimi — knowing that he’s undoubtedly begging for her to understand right now, telling her everything she wants to hear, that he’s doing a selfless deed, that when you no longer live in fear of returning to Pandora he’ll divorce you, that he’ll wait forever and an infinity for her — feels like you’ve been run right through with an Elyxion longsword’s worth of hatred for the man. It’s honestly getting to the point where you’re sickened by this endless loop of wanting, followed by disappointment, sewn together with crushing and unadulterated heartbreak.</p><p class="p1">At least you don’t have to lie to Kyungsoo any further.</p><p class="p1">“So, see? We do,” you snarl, turning away from that disgusting view as soon as possible. “We do hate each other. Or do I need to give you more than that?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo hazards one more glance to the couple, confused more than anything now, as he mumbles, “I don’t understand how you’re married but not.”</p><p class="p1">You do, it’s because of one stupid man’s stupid, stubborn heart. You can’t let Kyungsoo waste any more time, you need to be as selfish as possible, and act to have him heap his healing affection on you once again. You need to know if you can rip the stitches of that stubborn heart off of yours. So you kiss Kyungsoo again, unabashed and unhurried, and he works quickly by reassuring you, “Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” He nestles his lips back upon yours, for one kiss, another, maybe another half dozen, all punctuated with his lovelorn, “I missed you so much. So, so, so much.”</p><p class="p1">You’re almost there, you’re prepared to pirouette right off this doomed cliff of longing into the sea of his tenderness, and it’s not even a lie to admit, “I missed you, too.”</p><p class="p1">“Father will be fine with it if we’re not married, if you sort out whatever that is.” Not even the political talk nor the mention of the other man could cool the ardor in your chest, could stop you from arching yourself closer to him, to feel the crescent moon of his torso wane against the wax of yours. Your kisses are getting sloppier with your need for healing, he’s sighing out the loveliest things at each crossroads of your breath, “I never want to be apart from you again, my blueberry girl.” The first hint of a smile sparkles against your mouth at his sweet name for you, only for it to be dashed away with his final sentiment, “It’s okay if you’re only my girlfriend. My pretty, pretty, girlfriend.”</p><p class="p1">An invisible hand yanks you back from the precipice just as you’re about to leap from that cliff. There’s no relief that can be borne out of holding Kyungsoo’s heart in your hands, because it is not the same one you’re used to. Because the old Kyungsoo would’ve never, ever, <em>ever</em> called you his girlfriend. And you’re too jaded now to ignore that, like old you would have.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">A soft knock peals against the dining room table, and you look up from where you’d been slumped over your cup of coffee. With everything that’s been going on, it feels like such a slip of normalcy to see Mark with his head of blonde hair messed up from where he’d fallen asleep on your couch. It’s a snapshot of better times, when you were free to spend your lives together like this, unbothered.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, bee. You stay up all night?”</p><p class="p1">You nod, exhausted. After your frolic in the corridor with Kyungsoo, you’d hailed a taxi and left the mansion as soon as he’d walked back into the party. You’d waited, sat on the back steps of the hill that lead down to the cemetery, until the wee hours of the morning. When you knew everyone in your house was asleep and therefore could not question you about what had transpired, is when you went inside. But you should’ve known better, that you couldn’t avoid this forever.</p><p class="p1">Everyone inside is still asleep, but you pull Mark out onto the back balcony so you can sit there together in private, soak in the morning side by side. There’s no moment of restful peace left, though, because Mark gets right to the point, “Last night was so fucking weird.”</p><p class="p1">You barely manage a coherent, “I know.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t understand what’s going on with you and Jae,” Mark murmurs, fingers lowering the coffee cup from your mouth so you won’t avoid his eyes. “All that time away didn’t do you two any good? Did you ever listen to the message I sent you?”</p><p class="p1"><em>Y/n is… I don’t know. She misses you a lot. </em>If you’re being your true dramatic and extrapolating self, you’d say it was this moment that led you here, contributed directly to finding yourself back in Neozone, one ring on your finger, and another in your bag.</p><p class="p1">You give a subtle nod. “I did.”</p><p class="p1">Because Mark is Mark, and he knows you well enough to fill in the end of the sentence, <em>I did, and nothing’s changed</em>, you’re treated to the very soft crease of his brow, his conscientious question, “What really happened between you two?” You’ve told him absolutely everything in the time you’ve been in each others’ lives, secrets too small to be considered secrets, secrets too big to be kept within yourself. But he still knows nothing of this, and if you have your way, he never will.</p><p class="p1">“We’re here together for the first time, just the two of us, and this is what you want to talk about?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s Jae, my cousin’s appearance last night, or your parents,” Mark lists, not backing down. “Pick your poison.”</p><p class="p1">That is the three headed monster of touchy subjects you don’t want to venture into right now. You think for a second, of what will hurt you the least, then you offer, “I can’t rub my parents in your face, so I guess we can talk about Kyungsoo.”</p><p class="p1">“No, tell me about your parents,” Mark is polite in his denial, knowing that was your attempt at keeping your long-awaited reunion low key in the face of his still absent mother. “I met them for real the other night, they seem like such lovely people.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s such a fucking convoluted story,” you sigh, resting your head on his shoulder as you think of the fantastical set of circumstances leading to your reunion with your parents.</p><p class="p1">“I think Regent Oh… I mean, Mom’s foster brother? Uncle? Do I have to call him Uncle Oh now?” Mark jokes, still taking his time to process his own familial revelations. “Whatever, he explained the logistics of how you all reunited to Dad, who told me. But what was it like, to see them after so much time?”</p><p class="p1">He’s asking in anticipation, if he were to ever be blessed with the opportunity to look upon his mother’s face again. He wants to know what that moment might be like for him. It’s clear he’s looking at this through the lens of idealism, that he’s predicting a run through a flower field and a leaping hug. You at least have to prime him for the other possibilities. “Honestly? Not good.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s eyes widen in surprise, “Really?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. I treated them pretty horribly. Especially Mom. I was a fucking bitch,”you lament, still feeling the pricking regret that you’d acted that way. “I don’t know, I never thought my reaction would be anger. But there were so many times over the years that I wished they were dead that it felt insulting to me, that they’d lived and seemingly done nothing. Obviously I didn’t know then what I know now, but it hurt so, so bad dude.”</p><p class="p1">It’ll be different for Mark, his mother didn’t just up and leave him out of seeming nowhere. But that sort of anger might come creeping up in other sorts of memories, that she wasn’t there for the big moments of his life, that she hadn’t been there to comfort him after Jeno.</p><p class="p1">“But it seemed like everything was good?”</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t think it was going to be. I could barely talk to Dad without wanting to claw my heart right out of my chest,” you admit, unbelieving that you’d even dared to wish Kyungah was your parent instead. You blow out an exhale you don’t need to hide from him, hefted with so much emotion, then tell him, “But I found out that if Mom saw something I made on TV, she would sew a copy of it for herself. And she had a smiling strawberry stuck up on the fridge.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, bee,” he breathes out, and the tears are glittering in Mark’s eyes when you gather up the courage to look up at him. He puts an arm around your shoulder, the two of you snuggled together in remembrance of that fruit, the last image of that old shirt you both hold.</p><p class="p1">You can’t keep the cracks out of your voice as you continue on, “She’s my mom, you know? How could I stay mad? She and Dad are my people, they’re mine.” This is what true love is, the ability to forgive. This is the truest kind of love you’ll ever have, the love for your parents, the forgiveness in your heart that you were able to find for what they did.</p><p class="p1">Mark’s fingers go through the ends of your short hair as he muses, “We’re twins more than ever now. Elyxion mom, Neozone dad.”</p><p class="p1">He seems so at peace with the truth behind his lineage that you just have to ask, “And that doesn’t? You know, make you feel bad?”</p><p class="p1">The one fight that had almost shattered your relationship to the point of no salvaging had been due to the other region. His parents had had a blossom ceremony, they’d always seemed like the perfect Neozone couple. There would’ve been no reason to think she might’ve been from anywhere else. You would’ve thought he would’ve held an immense parcel of self-loathing, upon realizing he was indeed half from the region he blames for his mother and brother’s predicaments. </p><p class="p1">He shakes his head, regretful yet accepting, “I moved past that long ago. Why would a region kidnap its own citizen? That explained why Dad never blamed them for what happened.”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t intend to do it, but Mark sends a sear of cognizance right into your brain. You sit bolt upright from where you’d been leaning against his chest as you try to rack your brain for the dates you’re thinking of. Do you inadvertently hold the answer to every question you’ve been contemplating for the past few years?</p><p class="p1">“Y/n? Y/n, what?” Mark asks, concerned.</p><p class="p1">“I’m going to ask you something very weird,” you start, still trying to figure out if this is even possible. “Don’t freak out, okay?”</p><p class="p1">“Oooookay.”</p><p class="p1">“Doyoung got me security tapes from the city for maybe the… I don’t know, past twenty years or so. Do you want to comb through the footage from the day your Mom disappeared?”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s jaw drops, totally unsuspecting that that was what you were going to proffer up, “What? You do?”</p><p class="p1">You know the mansion has the same type of security surveillance the city has, there should be evidence somewhere on that flash drive. The time frame works, it all fits. “I don’t know why I asked for them, I thought there was maybe some clue about what the fuck has been going on around here that everybody’s missed.”</p><p class="p1">Before he can confirm, you’re jolting off of the wooden deck to run back inside toyour computer, plugged in on the kitchen table. You then rummage through the pockets in your discarded purse from yesterday, pulling out the small device now hefted with potential. You sit down next to your best friend, computer at the ready, and wait to see if he’s willing to commit to opening this can of vipers. He steels himself to nod, “Yeah, November second, two thousand six. Or it might be the night before, I can’t remember the exact timing.”</p><p class="p1">Your hands are trembling at an unreal level, mouse skittering back and forth on the screen as you wait for the desktop to boot up, for the flash drive to register as a device plugged in. There’s only one folder, the giant icon looming in your eyes after you zoom in the view, labeled <em>NZ_S_Footage</em>. Taking a deep breath, you take the plunge and click on the icon, expanding the list of embedded folders within.</p><p class="p1">But from where you’re sitting, you see Seulgi where she’s posted up for the night watch get up and open the door. She lets in Michael, as he promised to you yesterday, and when he sees the two of you together, he gestures for his son before you’re able to plunge any further into the mess of hidden potential.<span class="Apple-converted-space">  Mark</span> gets up laboriously, reluctantly to go to his parent, and he’s immediately sent off by his father to go help Yuta bring the rest of Exordium here to your house. Nuclear detonation on pause for now.</p><p class="p1">The sound of the hinge creaking open brings the emergence of your parents from the guest bedroom, and the three adults freeze in your entryway at the unexpected reunion. Michael claps a hand against your father’s shoulder, then smiles fondly right at your mother, “Hello again.”</p><p class="p1">It’s a strange sight, to see the three of them together in your home for the first time ever. Your real parents, plus your adopted one, each of them lending a strand to the braid of who you are as a person. But it is not strange in a particularly bad way, it’s strange in that you finally feel complete, like you’ve been subconsciously waiting for this since the beginning.</p><p class="p1">Your mother reaches out for a hug, face breaking in grateful relief as your father jokes,“Always under these circumstances, isn’t it, Michael?”</p><p class="p1">“I know, it would certainly be better for us if we were reuniting over drinks,” Michael keeps the mood light as he moves on to hug the other man as well. “How have you been holding up?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s been fine here, very quiet,” your father shrugs in response, not willing to get too worked up. “We’ve stopped any cross border transports, and have got Dohun keeping it together at home. Just a waiting game now, to see if we can go back any time soon.”</p><p class="p1">It’s an optimistic take, but you need all the optimism you can get right now. Michael seems to think so too, nodding and starting to take his shoes off to make himself comfortable in your home, “Well, like I’ve offered y/n for too many years now, you are welcome to stay here as long as you want.” He taps you on the arm with a wink, and goes over to your dishwasher to rummage for a coffee cup with practiced ease.</p><p class="p1">Watching you and Michael stand and chatter together while making the fresh brew, your father jokes, “What on earth possessed you to buy a house like this for a seventeen year old?”</p><p class="p1">Everything about this is pouring waves of nostalgia onto you, thinking of how anxious you’d been that a literal stranger would’ve done that good of a deed on a whim. Michael loops an arm around your neck to ruffle your hair and muse softly, “Your kiddo just has that effect on people.” They all wear the same proud grin, an image that pricks tears right into the corner of your eyes.</p><p class="p1">“Hello?”</p><p class="p1">“Mark—,” Michael starts to address the newcomer, but it dies in his throat when he sees his sister-in-law instead of his son. “Kyungah.”</p><p class="p1">“Michael.”</p><p class="p1">The leader of Exordium is there with Hyungsik at her side, somehow having made her way back from the capital undetected. The late Premier’s son nods his head with respect to the current Vice Premier, and then the siblings by marriage rush to embrace each other in the middle of your home.</p><p class="p1">“Bee, I’m baaaaaaack!” Mark calls as he strolls into the house with Yuta and some other folks.</p><p class="p1">Everyone again pauses in anticipation of what’s about to unfold. In Michael’s arms, Kyungah almost flinches at the sound of Mark’s voice, eyes shuttering closed with an unintelligible dash of emotion. As if she’s afraid to look up on his face, her body stutter steps in her brother-in-law’s hold, as she tentatively peeks to see her sister’s child.</p><p class="p1">“Auntie,” Mark murmurs politely, no hint of stress in his voice, coupled with true appreciation for the existence of another family member, “it’s so lovely to finally meet you.”</p><p class="p1">“You look just like her,”Kyungah whispers, not prepared to see her sister’s features in her child so prominently.</p><p class="p1">Mark knows what he should do, he walks right over to his father and gently pulls his aunt into a hug, a gesture that’s a shadow’s proxy of relief for both. You know he must be imagining his mother in her place, and she must be imagining Kyungsoo instead. From over his shoulder, she catches your frazzled expression, still caught up in the thought of the security footage, and steps back from the embrace in concern, “What’s going on here?”</p><p class="p1">Reunion severed, Michael gently takes hold of her shoulders to guide her towards your living room, calling behind him as he goes, “Everyone, come over here. We need to talk.” There’s a chilled aura of solemnity that’s descended over the room as the occupants of your house descend into your couch pit. Once you’re sat upon a cushion, your father’s arm around your shoulder, Mark’s hand on your knee, Michael blows out a low breath and announces,“It’s becoming more and more clear to me that the leaders of this region are planning a huge move against Elyxion, but I’m not entirely sure what.”</p><p class="p1">You and Mark give away your sheltered childhoods by being the only ones to gasp in surprise. Every other citizen that had grown up in Elyxion does not appear fazed at all by Michael’s statement, like it’d been a matter of <em>when</em> and not <em>if.</em></p><p class="p1">“They have tried to get me to cast the deciding vote on a war against Elyxion countless times, after that winter storm, when I almost died in the woods, most recently when our kiddo left us. I have stood pat every time. But with the news of y/n’s investigation primed to drop soon, I have this feeling that it’s going to be happening again, and I’m not sure that I can stop it this go around.”</p><p class="p1">“I did not find out anything helpful when I was in the capital. Didn't even get close to seeing the Premier personally,” Kyungah groans, quite frustrated, and beyond agitated that there are no answers tangible within her grasp. Your parents and Hyungsik share a look of distress as well, formerly hopeful that her sojourn to Pandora would’ve been more fruitful to you all. “What do we have?”</p><p class="p1">“The Neozone military leaders have crossed the border a week and a half ago, after spending months convened in Zero Mile. Yesterday, at the homecoming event, Chief of Ministers Kim suggested that the union of Regent Jung’s son with y/n would be a harmonious representation of the two regions,” your father recites, not bothering to conceal his distaste at the last sentence.</p><p class="p1">“With Mr. Jung?” Kyungah whirls around to look at you in surprise, not at all expecting that note of revelation, with the knowledge she has about your relationship with her son. You’re surprised no one called her with that tidbit of information, you certainly did your best to avoid it. But your father only shakes his head to get her off the topic, a silent <em>I’ll tell you later</em> mouthed her way getting you off the hook.</p><p class="p1">“I mean, that suggests reunification,” Hyungsik muses, the authority on the subject, “but that can’t be possible with his announcement to re-establish bloodline inheritance.”</p><p class="p1">“I doubt it’s as simple as that, Sik, you’re right,” Kyungah agrees, before turning back to her brother-in-law, “You didn’t hear about anything in your meetings with Kyungho? Any news on the investigation?”</p><p class="p1">Michael falters, awkward hand coming to scratch at the back of his neck, before finally admitting, “I have had no meetings with Kyungho for some time now.”</p><p class="p1">That is what draws the first notes of shock from the room, the most bizarre news yet. The Premier and Vice Premier were supposed to consult with each other on everything involving the country.</p><p class="p1">“Dad, what?” Mark exclaims. “We’ve been going over legislation this whole time, though?” In your daily calls during your time in Elyxion, he’d sometimes go over what he was working on with his father.The work hadn’t gotten much more intense than overseeing traffic laws, but while you’d seen that as a good thing before, you know now that wasn't the case at all.</p><p class="p1">“It’s been nonsense bookkeeping. I haven’t had an official policy meeting with the Premier since before I returned to Neozone in the spring,” Michael divulges the reality of his life, before quietly adding on, “and son, they gave you a lot of freedom to do what you wanted in Pandora. But I was not able to leave the apartment during that time.”</p><p class="p1">Shit. So that’s why he hadn’t been able to see Kyungsoo after his arrival in the capital. They’d had him on some sort of house arrest? Is that even legal? They must’ve been particularly shady about it, because it seems Mark didn’t have a clue. “Oh. I didn’t even pick up on that.”</p><p class="p1">Michael leans back heavily in the chair as he wills himself to keep going, to try and make sense of all this, “I kept hearing from my contacts that Jefferson spends a lot more time in the capital than usual. Is that true?”</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t see him at all,” Kyungah denies, as confused as anyone.</p><p class="p1">He rubs a hand across his face, muffling his next, more severe admission, “And now with the news that he knew y/n’s bloodline makeup, information he should never have had access to, I’m afraid this is getting too big for my liking.”</p><p class="p1">“He knows y/n’s bloodline?” Kyungah gasps as she looks to your parents for confirmation. Your parents, who look utterly heartbroken that they have to nod in affirmation. Unless he figured out your ancestry himself, Regent Jung must’ve somehow gotten into your government portal to figure out your mother was from Elyxion.</p><p class="p1">You don’t want to think of the lightning strike of terror that ravaged your chest as they so freely spoke about something you thought you’d kept a locked-down secret. You grit the strength into your voice and answer her question, “Taeyeon called me a steadfast daughter of Elyxion last night, and no one looked surprised, including Mr. Jung.”</p><p class="p1">Your parents come across wildly uncomfortable at the idea that their entire lives might be exposed like this. Hyungsik looks like he might question the validity of your statement. But Mark shoots him a glance so burning in its severity that the taller man backs down, falling silent in acceptance of your honesty. </p><p class="p1">“Oh, fuck,” Seulgi spits out of nowhere, derailing the conversation. The curse word is atypical coming from her, meaning that there is something wildly wrong that awaits you.You know she doesn’t do it on purpose, but as she takes her sweet time reading whatever’s on her phone, she only heightens the dread, everyone awaiting what sort of bomb she’s going to drop.</p><p class="p1">When she looks up, and her face is devoid of all robust color, you choke, “What. Slug, what is it?”</p><p class="p1">“Baek didn’t show up to his fan sign.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re shitting me.”</p><p class="p1">She meets your vulgar slip with the display of her phone, bold words of a news article’s headline unmistakable, <em>Famed Elyxion singer a no-show at his fan sign event in Chain City. Attempts to contact his team were met with no response.</em></p><p class="p1">“I knew something was off with them staying at Siwon Choi’s house,” you mutter, more to yourself than to anyone else. His compound-mansion-lair hybrid was too bizarrely ornate for anyone to feel comfortable in, and now Baekhyun didn’t show up to Chain City?</p><p class="p1">“Siwon Choi? Siwon Choi, how do I know that name?” Michael overhears your personal monologue and searches for the connection.</p><p class="p1">“Taeyeon’s husband?” Kyungah fills him in, “That famous news anchor with the scar on his cheek?”</p><p class="p1">“No, I knew that, but I knew him before, too.” He stops to think for a moment, rubbing his temple with his hand, then it comes to him, “Ah, right, he did a story on our family home over ten years ago, back when he was still a rising reporter. J loved him because he would always bring baseballs to play with.”</p><p class="p1">A rainbow of goosebumps protrude across the length of your scarred back as you repeat, “Over ten years ago?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know, fourteen, fifteen? That family portrait of us in our entryway was a b-roll shot for the article.”</p><p class="p1">You and Mark lock eyes, split souls meeting at the juncture of realization, and you just know.</p><p class="p1">He scrambles up off the couch to meet you at the computer, your hands already flying against the track pad to absolutely tear through the list of files you hadn’t yet gotten a chance to investigate. You have to reposition the mouse three times with the amount your finger is causing the cursor to shake, asking, “November second, two thousand and six, right?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, bee, hurry,” he urges you along, impatient to get to the footage you know is there.</p><p class="p1">You feel the anxious tension of a group of people hovering behind you, bursting with wonder at what you’re trying to pull up. The video is much shorter than expected, the timestamp only reads twenty nine seconds, but that’s more than enough time to inflict damage. You steel yourself, grip Mark’s hand, and press play on the video.</p><p class="p1">The footage is too dark to make out precise detail, but you’re looking at the corridor that leads to Mark’s bedroom in the mansion, there’s a vase stuffed with tulips that tells you so. Two people walk up the length of it towards the camera’s position, their polite conversation picked up by the recording device.</p><p class="p1">“Well, I am sorry that my silly husband and boys were not awake to greet you.”</p><p class="p1">This has to be her, even if she hadn’t given that identifying information. That lovely, melodic voice couldn’t have come from anyone else. You feel the drip of a tear on your hand from Mark, and the trio of sniffles that come from him, Michael, and Kyungah are enough to push you into the territory of emotional ruin. It’s her, your best friend’s beautiful mother.</p><p class="p1">The man beside her chuckles, and you don’t know Siwon Choi’s voice well enough to be sure it’s him, “I am the one who should be sorry, turning up at this hour unannounced to work is an inconvenience for you, I know.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s nonsense, you’re just starting your career. Do whatever it takes to be successful,” she offers her kind words of support, wrapping her night robe around her frame as they continue to walk. “If I can be of any help to you, I’ll do my best. You can talk to Michael and the boys if you come by again in the morning.”</p><p class="p1">He bows deeply, with gratitude audible in his voice, “Thank you so much, ma’am.”</p><p class="p1">“This way, would you like to grab a cup of tea from the kitchen before we start?”</p><p class="p1">“I would love that.”</p><p class="p1">To get to the kitchen from Mark’s bedroom, you have to take a left at the end of the corridor. Mark’s mother extends a hand to show her companion the way, and he takes the lead in following her direction, blocking off your first clear view of the woman in motion. When he turns his head to round the corner, the camera picks up the black-and-white, yet unmistakeable criss-cross pattern of a scar across the man’s cheek. Bingo. Siwon Choi.</p><p class="p1">“He was there?” Mark breathes out, as the video stutters to a close. “That night, he was there?” Every person in this room has surely heard the background story of Mark’s mother’s disappearance by now, Seulgi from her father, Hyungsik from Kyungah. But no one has been privy to this bit of information.</p><p class="p1">“Sweet pea, how do you have this?” your mother questions, in a quiet tone.</p><p class="p1">You don’t want everyone to know that your friend has done you this favor. If it was only Mark and your parents, you’d repeat the story about Doyoung that warmed your heart. But there are a lot of witnesses, and you don’t want to toss this information out carelessly and get him in trouble. A small fib won’t hurt, and you’ll tell Michael the truth later, “I scrubbed through the mansion’s security files one by one, this was missed.”</p><p class="p1">“Michael,” Kyungah beckons as she puts a hand on his shoulder, the hefty grief in her voice palpable. “This is what we’ve been hoping for. Didn’t you say there was nothing on the security camera?”</p><p class="p1">You glance up to where Michael is standing behind his son, utter longing carved into each wrinkle of grief in his face, as he bends at the waist to closely examine the concealed image of his wife. His left hand dances out into the open air, a tangential brush against the memory of her hair, and he murmurs in disbelief, “There never was.”</p><p class="p1">Had Doyoung gotten you some kind of original, undoctored footage? Must be.</p><p class="p1">“And that’s all you have?” she asks you, more than a bit desperate.</p><p class="p1">“I think it’s only the mansion and my house,” you say, unsure yourself of what exactly Doyoung had put on the flash drive because you haven't seen the rest. But you doubt he’d put more on there besides the two places you’d lived. You’re convinced now that Siwon had played a bigger role in this than you ever could’ve imagined. A news reporter could’ve had the capability to doctor video footage, editing is practically a required skill of their profession.</p><p class="p1">“Dad, we need to go to Zero Mile. We need to go now!” Mark exclaims, trying to push you off him so he can rush to the door in his fit of impulsiveness.</p><p class="p1">“No, not like this!” you cry, digging your hand into his arm so he’s forced to drag your dead weight along. “Mark, Mark, calm down.”</p><p class="p1">“If he hurt Mom, I’m going to fucking kill him!” Mark snarls with uncontrolled rage, a lifetime's worth of pent up rage seething in his chest.</p><p class="p1">The older man lightly moves you aside so he can grasp his son firmly, to shake him and get him under control. “Listen to me, we cannot go there if he’s there, especially since y/n already stole John Sr.’s son out from right under their nose,” Michael warns him of the trap he would definitely walk into if he’s careless with what he does. “And we cannot disappear from the city while Premier Kim and company are lurking.”</p><p class="p1">“You need to get them both out of sight, just for a bit,” your father points out, his composed calmness working wonders on Mark’s stressed-out face. “If you can do that, then maybe you’ll have a chance.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, but how?” Mark grumbles in frustration.</p><p class="p1">You look to your mother, whose mouth is trembling at the memory of her friend’s sister, at the thought of losing in you a harrowing, similar way, and she gives you your greatest inspiration.</p><p class="p1">“I know exactly how to do that,” you say, “but I need my sewing kit first.”</p><p class="p1">You haven’t sewn something this serious in quite some time. Not since you made Kyungsoo his pocket square, a pocket square you haven’t seen him wear since your almost marriage. But if worst comes to worst, and your hands give out like your heart feels prone to do, for the first time ever, you have your mother here to help you.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>we are reaching the first climax of this story lol i can feel the tension just building i can't wait. DONT FLAME ME FOR THE FRUSTRATION, THE SLOW BURN IS STILL A THING. WE'RE GETTING THERE.</p><p>thank u for reading! let me know what u thought!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. anemone coronaria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mark points to a small line of text posted up by the top of the screen, “That says February fourteenth. From this year.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oh i am so excited for you guys to experience this lol</p><p> </p><p>Dorado map - ibb.co/S5VfGDD</p><p>Family tree of some of the characters, as requested - https://ibb.co/1XtfGPN</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You’ve been through trials and tribulations aplenty, but the weight of the emotional cross you’re about to bear might be the heaviest yet. You’ve lived in Neozone for years now, and you can count the number of times you’ve been to this house on one hand. One finger, actually, this is the first time you’ve ever been here.</p><p class="p1">You have to say, you appreciate that Mimi doesn’t slam the door in your face upon seeing you there on her doorstep.</p><p class="p1">“Hi. May I come in?” you start tentatively, but she gives no answer, more along the lines of what you’d expected. You hand her what’s in your grasp, and explain, “I brought this for you.” It’s not much, just a taupe silk headband with embroidered gold butterflies precisely spaced out along the length of it. You’d figured she would never want to look at a peony again, so you’d made something neutral, something that would match the clothes her boyfriend wears. Funny, that a headband held such grave weight in your decision making, but it's the only thing you could think of to break the ice. It's as important as every other garment you've sewn, it is the one peace offering this whole interaction will hinge on. Your mother watched over your shoulder carefully as you'd worked, you feel like this has her seal of approval marked over it. </p><p class="p1">Her thumb runs over one of the butterflies, then she mutters, “What do you want from me?"</p><p class="p1">“I don’t…”</p><p class="p1">“Please,” she cuts you off before you can deny anything, “showing up with something you sewed? You’re going to ask for a favor, so out with it.”</p><p class="p1">You’re almost positive that she’s expecting the favor to be about Jaehyun, and you hope that the fact that it is not will convince her to oblige. You smile politely at her, then say, “The fall-winter baseball season is about to kick off, and I… would like to go to opening day.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh,” her immediate denial catches in her throat when she registers the lack of her boyfriend’s presence in the request. She composes herself, then tells you, “Daddy doesn’t have season tickets.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not here for tickets,” you clarify. “I’m here for Taeil Moon’s contact information.”</p><p class="p1">“Taeil Moon?”</p><p class="p1">The cross on your back leadens with guilt as you shoot her a small, sad smile, “That night he visited, um, he suggested I come to a game so we could celebrate Jeno. But things happened, and I had to leave before I was able to get his manager’s number.” You were drunk that night, but still remember the fight you’d incited by calling Mimi a kiss ass. While you’re certain she’s going to deny you based on that alone, you have to at least try. “I’m not sure how you know him, so this may be overstepping, but maybe…”</p><p class="p1">Perhaps you have the healing hand of time to thank, for finally bestowing her with the understanding of how much Jeno means to you.As soon as you mention the boy’s name, her eyes soften, and it doesn’t take her long to concede, “His wife is Yooa’s cousin, I have his personal line. Give me a second.” She disappears into a side room from the entrance and comes back holding a slip of paper with some numbers scrawled on it, which she hands over to you. “Here. He only answers at night because of his schedule, so time it right.”</p><p class="p1">You’re currently toeing the line of a perfect success you hadn’t expected. You’re getting incredibly lucky, you may pull this off yet.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” you murmur softly, before gathering the courage to look her right in the eye and express your gratitude sincerely, “thank you so much. I’ll be going now, sorry for disturbing your evening.”</p><p class="p1">You turn to go, to not bother her any further, and you have one foot off the step when she calls, “Y/n, wait.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes?”</p><p class="p1">She puts one hand up on the doorframe to steady herself, but her words come out with impressive determination, “Can you please tell me, girl to girl, no bullshit, what the hell is going on between you and my boyfriend?” You open your mouth, obviously to retort, and she holds a hand up to stop you, “And don’t try to get out of this, you know you owe me big time for the party.”</p><p class="p1">May as well tattoo <b>GUILTY</b> across your forehead, a permanent reminder of your heinous behavior for the rest of your life.</p><p class="p1">You try to keep it as simple as you can, no frills, no nuance, “We are married.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re married,” she repeats, face falling with your seeming confirmation of her internal thoughts, but she doesn’t realize you’re not done.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, no, let me finish. I really was going to marry Kyungsoo before we knew he was the Premier’s son. I have the ring, everything.” You extend your left hand, where a reassuring beam of silver rests against your finger — you’d switched back to the safer metal, before the other one got you into any further trouble.</p><p class="p1">Mimi stands on her tiptoes to peer at your hand, then her brow furrows in confusion, “I just, I don’t get it.”</p><p class="p1">If you were still friends, this would be when you’d laugh and tell her you had no fucking clue either. But the strands of your relationship had been self-severed a long time ago, and you can only explain, exhaustion seeping through your words, “Like I said, we had no idea he was Premier Kim’s son, let alone that he would be found out and brought to the capital. Kyungsoo asked me to go there to be with him and I was alone here and I just panicked. I can’t go back—,”</p><p class="p1">She’s intuitive enough to finish off the end of your rapidly-increasing-in-hyperventilation sentence for you, “Because of what you went through there.”</p><p class="p1">Yes. Yes, that’s it. Finally, she gets it.</p><p class="p1">“Right,” you affirm, rubbing a hand against your arm, as the shyness comes creeping up, “so somebody suggested I get married, to give them no avenue of opportunity to take me.” Mimi knows the law exists, everyone in Dorado knows that a marriage performed in one region cannot be broken up or interfered with by another.</p><p class="p1">“Why Hyunie, though, when you knew he was dating me?” Her voice is small as she asks what you’re sure is the biggest fear in her immensely privileged life. You’d kill for this role reversal, to have the only worry nagging at your mind whether or not your long time boyfriend is devoted to you. That means he’d been yours, at least for a moment. </p><p class="p1">You lower your head, to toe at the crack in the concrete and murmur, “I wanted for it to be Mark, he’s a person that I love more than almost anyone in this world.” Mark is a boy from home that you love, that you would’ve married in a heartbeat. “But his father works in Pandora. So he was out.” You purse your lips, run a hand through the end of your tiny ponytail, and add, “Then, Jaehyun was the first out of my friends to offer himself up.”</p><p class="p1">Her face falls, echoed by her pained whisper, “He was? He didn’t say that.”</p><p class="p1">Oof, that is a gut punch of a reminder that he intends to go about dating her come hell or high water, that he’s been spending this whole time convincing her of his heart. And it’s up to you to make sure that that performance earns a clean sweep.</p><p class="p1">You step up onto the stair, and place a hand on Mimi's shoulder as you selflessly reassure her, “It’s not a marriage of anything other than convenience. Michael is back, he can get things sorted out on my behalf after they go back to Pandora, get a divorce for him when it’s time.” You have a sick need to know what sort of lies he’s been feeding her, so you press further, “Has Jaehyun been telling you something different?”</p><p class="p1">She sniffles, then shakes her head and shrugs, the contrasting gestures not making sense before she clarifies, “At the party — when you saw us in the hallway — he kinda just said it was something he needed to do and nothing else. Then begged me not to tell Daddy.”</p><p class="p1">You swallow thickly, letting your eyes linger closed on the next blink you take. Here is the confirmation you’d subconsciously been looking for. The fucking killing blow of realization that absolutely nothing has changed, that he does see this as doing a good deed, nothing more.His plea for her not to tell her father is definitely so he come away feeling superior for being a Good Samaritan without risking a fight with his father. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.</p><p class="p1">You ham it up, speaking to her with as much falsely concerned care you can muster, “You might need to be patient for a bit, because like the party, we might have to pretend. But otherwise, please carry on with your boyfriend. I’m very sorry you were caught in the middle of all of this.”</p><p class="p1">Mimi’s head bows with the breadth of her silent acceptance of your concession, and you squeeze her shoulder when your fractured heart squeezes in your chest, “I will go now, thanks again for Taeil’s number.”</p><p class="p1">You make it off the step and two squares of the sidewalk away from her house before there’s a second halting interjection from Mimi, “Did you two…”</p><p class="p1">“Hmm?”</p><p class="p1">“Before the marriage, did you two have a blossom ceremony?”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even have to look at her face, the tremble in her question is enough to tell you that she’s worried. She’s worried that after her failure to make the honeysuckle bloom, that you’ve somehow succeeded. You’re primed to tell her that, that you haven’t, and will not ever see the beautiful five petals of white-yellow gold. When you’re forced to think of the blue mug still stashed in your cabinet, the tiny blooms of ivory that you’ve convinced yourself never emerged, you feel the utmost satisfaction that she’d chosen to phrase her query in that way.</p><p class="p1">That means you’re not lying when you answer, “No. We didn’t.”</p><p class="p1">The satisfaction is short-lived, because when you glance back up, there is a lifetime’s worth of wretched relief stitched across her face. That’s all it takes to brand that stamp of guilt right back across your chest. You were depraved enough to allow your flower to blossom by his hand, to indulge in every lovelorn fantasy, to be foolish enough in believing his words that it was supposed to be <em>me and her. </em>But this is his actual girlfriend, his actual love, <em>relieved</em> by the notion that he hadn’t found somebody else. That he hadn’t found you.</p><p class="p1">“I was very sorry to hear about what happened,” you whisper, moonlit pearl of teary sheen cascading into your eyes as you take your gracious bow out of this mess. The corner of your lip quirks up in a sad smile, and you recall a poignant old ghost, “But you don’t need a flower to tell you who your true love is.”</p><p class="p1">Mimi won’t know that those words of comfort had come from her boyfriend himself, long ago. But his actions now show that he still believes in what he said.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You wince when the Pandora guard that pulls open the door to the hotel room is the same one who had been in the hallway at the party. He eyes you with curiosity, but moves aside to let his boss through, to let Kyungsoo through, who smiles at you with such fondness when he sees you there.</p><p class="p1">“Hi.”</p><p class="p1">“Hi. Can I come in? I really wanted to see you.”</p><p class="p1">He takes your hand without another word, leading you into the lounge area and sitting you right down on the couch. He shoos the guards so they’re not in blatant full view, and by the time he’s perched on the cushion next to yours, he’s kissing you, in the same desperate way he’d done so at the party — his words accentuated by each press of his lips against yours, like he can’t stop himself from kissing you long enough to talk, “How can I still miss you this much when we’re in the same city. I miss you so much, all the time.”</p><p class="p1">You grab onto his hand and convince yourself you should never let go as you return, “I know. It’s not the same.”</p><p class="p1">He treats himself to a particularly unhurried kiss, his luscious lips nestling right into the center of yours, and then he pulls back to speak properly, “I have a proposition that I think you’ll like.” His hand reaches out to twirl a strand of your hair within it, and then he offers up, “Taeil Moon and the Bats have invited Father, the other Neozone leaders, and their families to the home opener, to celebrate the nation and our region. Want to come with me?”</p><p class="p1">And…. curtain up on the first scene of this role you’re playing.</p><p class="p1">“What?” you feign complete and utter surprise. “Is he really?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, this Saturday!”</p><p class="p1">“Oh.”</p><p class="p1">At the composed slide of surprise right off your face, Kyungsoo glances at you with interest, “What, are you already going with Michael?”</p><p class="p1">“Mark and I have separate plans, we didn't know!” You lie out your fucking ass, keeping your right hand tucked under your leg so it doesn’t move to give you away by pinching your palm. You try to change the subject, satisfied your plans are well-laid, “Have you even seen him since you’ve been back?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo shakes his head and denies, “No. I’ve had tons of meetings with Father. This isn’t a social visit, after all.”</p><p class="p1">It’s bizarre for him to be here and not see Mark, his friend and cousin, at least once. Though that bothers you, you try to keep it light by ribbing him, “When did you become an actual politician?”</p><p class="p1">“If I’m going to be the next Premier, I need to start taking my responsibilities seriously,” he swears, as serious as he can be. Except this time you don’t find it endearing, you find it too eerily similar to his father’s behavior. The Kyungsoo you knew joked at being gainfully unemployed, never aspired to such lofty goals beyond tangible personal success. He worked in a small political activist organization, how did that evolve into being this okay with becoming the next Premier? Especially in an upheaval of long standing tradition?</p><p class="p1">“The next Premier,” you scoff at the ridiculous notion, “Kyungsoo, you can’t want this to happen.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s what my bloodline has determined for me,” he parrots out the words, and you can practically hear Premier Kim’s authoritative voice saying them. “And of course, I will serve the nation as best as I possibly can.”</p><p class="p1">“The entire nation, right?” you challenge him, remembering his slip on the TV.</p><p class="p1">Again, with a practiced politician’s ease, Kyungsoo answers in the affirmative, “Of course. We are products of both nations, the best both have to offer, <em>the</em> quintessential example of how our regions can exist in harmony together.”</p><p class="p1">A shiver crawls from your back into your chest at his repetition of the phrase Taeyeon had used to approve of your sudden matrimony with Jaehyun. You and Kyungsoo are both half from Elyxion, half from Neozone, there indeed would be no better example of showing how the nation could act in peace. But it comes across as too clichéd, too set up, you just don’t like the feeling it induces in you. The heritage Kyungah had given Kyungsoo hasn’t seemed to be acknowledged all amongst this.</p><p class="p1">“There’s something you could help me with, though.”</p><p class="p1">You break out of your internal monologue at his request, and you shrug, “Sure.”</p><p class="p1">His hand gently folds over yours, over the silver ring of his that’s on your finger, and he murmurs, “Please, come back to Pandora with me.”</p><p class="p1">Under your leg, the nails of your other hand dig right into your flesh. Not this again. “Soo—,”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve lived there since college, I think you’d really love the city,” he blusters into his best convincing argument once he senses your immediate trepidation. “It’s so beautiful there, in a way that Elyxion and Neozone aren’t.”</p><p class="p1">Your tongue is heavy in your mouth with a denial, “I—,”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo doesn’t let you get another word in edgewise, and switches to a more personal plea, “More than that, I would really, really appreciate having my girl there with me. For us to live together again, for me to come home after a long day and get to kiss you right then.”</p><p class="p1">He knows exactly what he’s doing, he’s using this idyllic imagery to prick at your tender heart, to nudge you along in discerning that’s sort of what you want too. You want the stability, you want the comfort of a steady, caring presence in your daily life, it’s what you’ve been looking for all these years.</p><p class="p1">“That would be nice, but—,”</p><p class="p1">“And you’ve met my mom already, and I’ve met your parents, all that’s left is for you is to meet Father.”</p><p class="p1">His insistence in involving Premier Kim in your private matters is enough to have your guard up. His continuing presence as a lurking shadow of your relationship feels wildly uncomfortable, and as much as you’re dangling on the edge of caving to Kyungsoo’s request, you have to keep sidestepping this particular issue, “I already know him. I’ve known him for longer than you.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo takes your hand, lifts your knuckle to his lips and kisses it as he did the day he gave you the ring, then says, “Yes, but he knows you as you, and not you as my girlfriend.”</p><p class="p1">That invisible hand of fear snakes through your system and begins to choke at your throat. You have to ask, because it’s been a nagging injury to your consciousness since he’d murmured it at the party, “Why do you keep calling me that?”</p><p class="p1">His face twists in displeasure as he looks down on your ring, then coldly replies, “Because you’re not my wife, you’ve made that clear. But you’re not just my friend, either.”</p><p class="p1">“You were the one who made that rule.” Why is he this upset? It’s like he’s totally forgotten the reasons that restriction had been put into place, which is a shocking thing to realize.</p><p class="p1">“I think that was me in severe denial that I was in love with you.” His shy, tender smile coupled with the rosebud blush on his cheeks is such a sudden, fetching sight. His words drift off, like he’s pirouetting in a dream, as he confesses further, “Even with a failed blossom ceremony, even after Luna, I still fell in love with you anyways.”</p><p class="p1">Shit, shit, shit. Him mentioning Luna means he does remember, means that this is one hundred percent his real, unadulterated feeling.</p><p class="p1">You cannot stop the mishmash of surprise from avalanching out of your mouth, “You did what now?”</p><p class="p1">His beautiful black eyes stare right into yours, as his index finger pokes once against your cheek. “I fell in love with you,” he laughs, disbelieving. “Crazy, right?”</p><p class="p1">Really, really fucking crazy.</p><p class="p1">God, you’ve never been at this moment before. You never, ever thought he would arrive at the point where he would feel comfortable expressing that sort of thing to you. He’d steadfastly held onto the phrase <em>I opposite of hate you, </em>because, you were certain, he knew he would never be able to say the true words to anyone else but his late fiancée. So you’re at a loss, now. Is this when you’re supposed to say it back? You’re still partially wrapped up in the identity of a character you’re playing, so would it or would it not be a lie to repeat those words back to him? If you’re just you right now, would saying <em>I love you</em> back to Kyungsoo have any drop of truth imbued in the words?</p><p class="p1">You settle for halfway in between, not with verbal proof coming from your mouth, but physical proof instead — you lean over and kiss him with the full force of your turmoil and confusion, hoping that the silent words in your gesture will be enough to convince him of what he wants to hear. Hoping that the desperation that overtakes you as you press yourself into him, will only be interpreted as undiluted want and affirmation of your matching adoration.</p><p class="p1">The guard that has just listened into this entire conversation interrupts the two of you, “Mr. Do, there’s a call on the line.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo ignores the urgency in tone and indulges in several more kisses, mouth salacious and bold as it captures yours, and then he kisses you on the cheek and whispers, “Think about coming back to the capital with me after the game. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”</p><p class="p1">He disappears into the bedroom to take his call, and you take that moment to stand up and perform what feels like a walk of shame must, scurrying out of the room under the scrutinizing eye of the remaining guard. You decide not to order a car to drive you back home. There’s no good that can come from being trapped in a confined space like that, so you pace your weary legs through the sidewalks of Neozone, consumed with contemplation over what you’ve just learned.</p><p class="p1">You should not be surprised that Kyungsoo feels this way, not at all. You had spent every waking day in each other’s company for six months, before that shared an incredibly intimate time while he was in the city, and even prior to that, went through the most emotionally intense, devastating experience of your lives together. It would be akin to sociopathy to <em>not</em> develop some kind of feelings as a result of it all. That’s why you’re horrified to find you’re actually upset at yourself right now. This is Johnny all over again. The truth of the matter is, you’ve had two purely earnest hearts open themselves to you and met them both with nothing. In this instance, you know you have something within your heart for Kyungsoo in return, but you have no fucking clue if it’s actually love or not. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to know. </p><p class="p1">As you put in the code to open the electric fence, and are greeted by the same sight of twin houses together on the hill, you are convinced the universe has it out for you. <em>You don’t need a flower to tell you who your true love is. </em>Yes, sure, it’s a comforting sentiment to repeat, but it’s becoming more clear to you that you don’t believe in it at all. Of course you can love a person without needing a flower to confirm it, you love your parents, Michael, Mark, <em>of course</em> you do. But you know for a fact if your stellaria hadn’t blossomed, you’d be playing a whole different ballgame right now.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">It’s quiet in the house.</p><p class="p1">Michael and your parents are doing last minute work to prepare your effects for the journey to Zero Mile; Yuta, Hyungsik, and Kyungah all went down to the military post to make sure things were in order for the looming mission ahead. With the Exordium members who are crashed at your house mostly keeping to themselves, the only sounds echoing into the room are the tick of the hands on your wall clock and the clatter of your fingers across the keyboard as you continue to go through footage on the flash drive. Day after day after day of video clips from the mansion, your house, Yuta’s, John’s, basically everything is on here.</p><p class="p1">You’re riled up with all the coffee you and Mark have been chugging, and your motor skills are definitely impaired as a result of the caffeine and the hasty speed you’re working at. You’re scrolling, and he’s taking notes on his laptop, but when you go to open up this year’s set of videos, the cursor skitters to and fro as you try to gain control over your actions. You end up clicking on one of the random files that you don’t intend to.</p><p class="p1">“Oh fuck, my mouse is freaking out, sorry,” you apologize as you try to close the window and continue scrolling. “Let me open up the right one.”</p><p class="p1">“Wait,” Mark puts a hand over yours to keep you from clicking the x in the corner. “Is thatone Jae? And his dad?”</p><p class="p1">You squint at the image preview he’s pointed out. He’s right, surely enough, you’d know that head of curly hair anywhere, even in the grainy black and white, and there are his father’s signature thick-lensed glasses. You don’t find this particularly weird, they’re probably on half this footage considering how paranoid and well protected their family is. Your eyes roam the screen, seeking out a frame of reference for your search, “What’s the date on this so I can see how far I need to scroll?”</p><p class="p1">Mark points to a small line of text posted up by the top of the screen, “That says February fourteenth. From this year.”</p><p class="p1">Your hand stills on the trackpad of your laptop.</p><p class="p1">“Bee?” Mark asks, noticing your cessation of movement. When you don’t respond, he gently pokes at your hand, “Y/n, are you good?”</p><p class="p1">The trembling of your hands has transferred itself right into the target of your chest, your shoulders quaking with the next expunging exhale that comes from your lungs. That. That looks a lot like your porch. It looks like they’re standing on your porch. You check the timestamp again, to make sure Mark hasn’t fooled you, and it does say so, <em>February 14th, 7:23 am.</em></p><p class="p1">“Hold on, I just. I just—,”you can’t even finish a half hearted explanation before you’re clicking on the preview, your computer filling with the image of Jaehyun and his dad, yes, standing on your front porch. You'd put those arrangements of anemones out to try and emulate one morsel of color representative of the famous romantic holiday, Valentine's Day. Jaehyun's birthday.</p><p class="p1">Michael clears his throat from where he’s sitting on the couch before your unsteady thumb can hit the button, “Speaking of Jae, you never told me how exactly you two ended up married.”</p><p class="p1">From the apex of fear to the pit of despair you go, in one fell swoop, not ready at all to tackle the topic he’s suddenly switched to. And now he’s got your parents roped in on the matter, your mom’s eyes light up with curiosity, “Yes, sweet pea, who is that boy to you, you’ve never mentioned him at all.”</p><p class="p1">Your hand clenches into a fist as you rock it on the trackpad, forcing your eyes closed as you hear Mark’s lighthearted response, <em>I’ve known Jae since we were babies, we’ve been best friends ever since. But I’m kind of curious too, bee? </em></p><p class="p1">You press play.</p><p class="p1">There’s a few seconds of stuttered silence, when the audio is catching up to the visuals, and then the first exclamation detonates into your ear, “Why the fuck do you keep acting so stupid!” There’s the sound of rustling as the other adults come to crowd around the computer. However, you can’t take your eyes away from the two men going toe to toe in front of your house, the night guard tucked out of view.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun shakes his head, keeping his voice even and steady, “Nothing happened, Dad.”</p><p class="p1">Regent Jung plasters a head against his forehead, disbelieving that his son has dared to argue back, “You agreed that dating the Kim girl was in our family’s best interests!”</p><p class="p1">There’s a hitch in Mark’s breath you can hear at the mention of Mimi, and that turns into multiple gasps from the group at Jaehyun’s frustrated retort, “I agreed because I had no choice!”</p><p class="p1">Had Regent Jung actually arranged them dating for his personal gain? Was Jaehyun’s mention of the two men’s relationship at the party more than just a casual reference to the history of their friendship? It doesn’t exactly matter, the feelings had bloomed between the two anyways, but you’re selfish enough to want that one modicum of comfort, that maybe it hadn’t been all him.</p><p class="p1">“To secure your place in Neozone, like I’ve been trying to do since you were born!” his father exclaims, grabbing Jaehyun’s shoulders and shaking him to get the information to stick in his head.</p><p class="p1">He shrugs his father’s arms off with a huff, “Who gives a shit about that!”</p><p class="p1">“Me, when I see you traipsing about with an Elyxion bitch like you’ve been doing.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s hand flies to grip at your arm, the reflection of his and his father’s twin enraged faces visible in the dark patch of night on your computer, definitely recognizing where they’re standing right now.But you barely register the sensation of his nails digging into your forearm because you’re still reeling from the blast of Regent Jung’s sour words. The only person <em>Elyxion bitch</em> could be is you.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun scoffs with full derision, unable to understand why they’re hashing the same argument out, “I don’t know anyone from Elyxion anymore, Dad.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t tell me you’ve never figured it out. You’re smarter than that,” Regent Jung deadpans, the sarcasm from his mouth the most chilling instance of the sentiment you’ve ever heard.</p><p class="p1">You’ve sat on this information for a long, long time now, but it dissects you right apart, Jaehyun’s shocked little whisper, “Dad, what?” The motion lags, but you’re able to pick it up, the slight turn of his head over to where your bedroom lights are shuttered in darkness. “Are you saying—,”</p><p class="p1">Regent Jung points a loathsome finger in the same direction his son had just glanced and savagely spits, “That woman who lives in this house, who pretends she’s from Zero Mile, is from Elyxion. Tactix, specifically.”</p><p class="p1">“No,” your mother whispers at the mention of her hometown, “oh no.”</p><p class="p1">How he had this information, you still don’t know, but he knew it, he knew the truth. And now Jaehyun knows the truth, too. That’s why he hadn’t looked surprised at finding your parents in Mark’s living room with the other Elyxion refugees, he’d known since his birthday. </p><p class="p1">It’s a truth Jaehyun didn’t quite believe back then, indicated by his stutter, “I-I, w-what?”</p><p class="p1">His father doesn’t clarify any further, only takes a menacing step forward, causing his bigger son to cower in fear, “So listen to me closely, boy. I’ll be willing to look aside you spending time with her again, on one condition.” How did Regent Jung even know Jaehyun had come to your house that night? The night guard was clearly late to his shift, you know this because you’d only allowed yourself to be fully his because you were in that droplet of isolation.</p><p class="p1">“You get that bitch to go back home, or I will have the Pandora troops come do it.”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes flutter shut out of pre-programmed fear just as you hear Mark’s angry <em>what the fuck</em>. You’d always known he’d hated you, always, always. There was never a moment that Regent Jung treated you with kindness, save for the night that he realized you were preoccupied with Kyungsoo and not with his son. But you’d assumed he’d always stay passive-aggressive in his interactions with you, not delve to straight aggression in an attempt to disinfect you from Jaehyun’s life. His prejudice against Elyxion had really run that deep?</p><p class="p1">“Dad!” Jaehyun’s hurt cry forces your gaze back onto the screen, where you see an expression of devastation branded onto his face you’ve never seen before. Amber eyes glistening with hurt visible even through the grainy footage, labored breathing, fidgeting hands.</p><p class="p1">“That’s my only offer, Jeffrey,” Regent Jung uses his most authoritative voice in threatening his son. You’ve never heard anyone use Jaehyun’s legal name in the entire time you’ve known him. His father doesn’t need to yell it, only drip the poison right into his words, “You will get that Elyxion bitch out of the city. Ignore her, treat her like dirt, force her to relive that boy’s death, I don’t care how. Do it unless you want to watch her get led away in handcuffs. Or a body bag.”</p><p class="p1">That’s it, the footage comes to a grinding halt.</p><p class="p1">You swallow thickly, like your throat will not allow you to have life-giving breath anymore, pressing the scar on your left hand right into your nose as you try to center yourself in reality. What, what, what? Is it even possible, that Jaehyun had not left out of his own volition that night? That perhaps… perhaps. Perhaps he had been coerced into acting so awfully after his birthday, each distressing encounter between the two of you designed to force you into unwittingly bending to his father’s will.</p><p class="p1">Your heart is being carved apart with a paring knife designed to inflict the full spectrum of emotional ruin upon you. First, with your mother’s obvious devastation, that her origin has caused you to be thrown in harm’s way, that it is only because of her that you are seen as an outsider. Second, with the sheen of glistening tears that you can see have already tumbled down your father’s cheeks, unable to comprehend why anyone would want to hurt his child in this fashion.</p><p class="p1">Third, and by far the worst of all, is Michael’s blank stare, mirrored in your black screen, echoed by a phrase that is still reverberating in your ears - <em>Force her to relive that boy’s death.</em> That boy’s death. Jeno’s death, his own son’s death.</p><p class="p1">“You married this man’s son?!” your father bellows, startling the other stragglers who are occupying the room, incensed to the point of venomous anger at what he’s just seen.</p><p class="p1">“Jae’s not like that, I swear, sir!” Mark chirps right away, taken aback by the sudden violence.</p><p class="p1">“I- I didn’t know at the time,” you breathe out, eyes still locked on the that cloud of curly hair on your screen. “I knew he disliked me, but I always thought it was because I… I was poor or something.”</p><p class="p1">Your father’s arm twists you in the chair, so that you’re facing him to see his determination, “Well, we need to do something about it! If this is true, then this is a thousand times worse than marrying you to the Premier’s son! Both of whom seem to actually like you!”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, sweet pea,” your mother chimes, voice cracking over your cute nickname, “we can convince them not to take you to the capital, I’m sure we can, right Michael? Michael?”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s father is concreted right into the floor, unable to move, unable to say anything, you’re not even sure if he’s fully breathing right now. You would not blame him one single bit if he scoffs in disbelief right now, and accuses you of doctoring footage. Or if he completely breaks down into a sobbing mess, at the stark betrayal of someone he considers a long-time friend.</p><p class="p1">Instead, you get a volcanic eruption of fury, that’s channeled into one lowly uttered, “I’m going to fucking kill him.”</p><p class="p1">You know that he means it, Michael Lee is a man of his word, so you reach out and catch his hand before it’s too late for you to stop him. Mark does the exact same thing at the exact same moment, and he gently pleads with his dad, “Please, don’t.”</p><p class="p1">“Jefferson had no reason to attack you for nothing,” Michael growls, infuriated on your behalf,“and in the privacy of your home! Why were they even here when his son’s house is right across the plaza?!” A rush of air comes out in a typhoon from the trench of your lungs. Your parents do a double take back to the screen, unfamiliar with the outside look of your house from that angle.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, we went out the night before Jae’s birthday party, I’m pretty sure he disappeared to go home at some point,” Mark chimes in, trying to back you up in a way that only dangles you further off the cliff. Your anxiety starts to accelerate at light speed, at light speed towards a looming brick wall. It is very kind of the Lee men, to be this naive.</p><p class="p1">“It wasn’t nothing,” you admit, voice wavering with the troughs and peaks of everything you’d felt that night. “He had a reason to.”</p><p class="p1">“Kiddo?”</p><p class="p1">Michael’s voice mellowing out into that tender tone is enough to unstop the dam of guardedness you’ve been wearing. You’ve lied about this for so long, for so, so long, and you cannot do it anymore. Not when the stakes are this high, not when there are more implications than just a silly girl’s broken heart. This time, when your eyes flutter shut, you feel the liquid anguish of a solitary tear cascading down your cheek.</p><p class="p1">“Bee, come on it’s Jae—,”</p><p class="p1">You shakily cut Mark off, repeating, “It wasn’t nothing.” You’re hollow with grief, you’re literally begging yourself to finally tell the truth, <em>he was at my house because Jaehyun was there with me that night.</em></p><p class="p1">“Sweet pea,” your mother whispers, “talk to me.” That only sends another tear gliding across your skin. You’ve never allowed yourself to cry about it more than once, though the desire to has taken root in your soul many a time. But you’re approaching the dizzying point of no return, the hot salt stabbing against your eyes.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t like this, I don’t like this at all.”</p><p class="p1">At Michael’s displeased mutter, your eyes shoot open, thinking you’ve just inconvenienced him. You immediately bluster at wiping your tears and forming some sort of an apology, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I never knew about this, I don’t know what to do. I think I lo—,”</p><p class="p1">“Dad,” Mark aggressively halts the forward progress of the phrase that was about to vomit from your lips, “give us a sec.”</p><p class="p1">All of the parental figures in the circle appear loath to move away from your line of sight for even a second. But you miss them wordlessly acquiescing to Mark’s request because you’re focused back in on the final still image of the video, or as well as you can, vision consumed in foggy fright.</p><p class="p1">You can’t only be selfish in interpreting Jaehyun’s father’s threat of violence against you. At first you couldn’t figure out if it was just a personal threat or a political one. But upon further reflection, you have a feeling it’s definitely both. Having the Pandora Special Forces remove an Elyxion woman from Neozone could be Regent Jung’s way of testing the waters of forced deportations. Maybe all those trips to Pandora were him trying to convince Premier Kim this was the way to bring about peace in the nation.</p><p class="p1">“What the actual fuck happened between you two?” Mark gasps, grabbing you by the arm so that you can’t stare at the frozen screen any longer and are forced to look into his frantic eyes.</p><p class="p1">Mark is trying to finally pry apart your relationship, all the feelings you thought you had buried into the concrete of the past, and that’s not what’s important anymore. You groan in incredulity, “<em>That’s</em> what you got out of this?”</p><p class="p1">“I mean, no, but y/n,” Mark gently takes both your hands with his soft appeal to you, “You’re my sister, if that stuff doesn’t come first what’s the point of being human anymore. What happened between you and Jaehyun?”</p><p class="p1">You know the fierce grip of your fingers against his will give you away, and even the lie of <em>Nothing, M, nothing happened</em>, gets dammed up in the back of your throat.</p><p class="p1">The sign of the changing times is that Mark gives up on the effort to be polite, and probes further when before he would hold back, “You both wrote to me separately, asking me to come home for the other. That’s not a coincidence.”</p><p class="p1"><em>I think it’d make her happy if you came home too.    //    </em> <em>Please think about coming home when your father visits. It’d make Jaehyun happy. </em></p><p class="p1">It has to be a coincidence, it has to be.</p><p class="p1">“We know Regent Jung has always disliked me, that doesn’t mean anything out of the ordinary happened,” you give your flimsiest partial truth, partial lie.</p><p class="p1">“Not like this. That was personal. He used the kiddo against you,” Mark condemns the older man with the full force of his vitriol. He’s done it, okay, Mark’s won the argument with that. If you were a nobody to his son, Regent Jung would not have used your most personal trauma as a blunt force weapon. You’re trying to think of a last-ditch excuse to avoid this, but Mark gives you no chance to. “Why was Jae at your house that morning? What happened?” he asks again, before he entreats you, very, very carefully, “and y/n, please don’t say that you’re neighbors.”</p><p class="p1">Mark is your best friend. Your very, very best friend, your brother, the other half of your cleaved soul. You need to tell him this.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, kiddos, I need to steal Mark.” The worst climaxes of your conversations are always gracefully saved by someone or another. This time it’s Mark’s own father who is reluctant in his interruption, “Yuta called, he’s on the phone with Renjun.”</p><p class="p1">Your entire torso collapses back against the chair. What the hell had you been thinking, preparing to tell Mark like that? For him to know the truth behind you and his best friend, that’s a whole realm of impossibility you don’t want to contemplate. The idea of telling him the sad tale, petal after petal plucked from your bloom until you’re as barren as a dry stalk in the winter, makes you dry heave so quickly you run out the front door in the opposite direction. You don’t stop until your hands are pressed into the marble of the fountain, bracing yourself as you fold in half with your exhaustion, gulping down the air like you’re running on low, eyes stinging barbs into your skull.</p><p class="p1">A tentative, “Hey,” pricks into your ear through the autumn air.</p><p class="p1">You look up through blurry vision to see Jaehyun there in his running clothes, pink pineapple headband reliably set in his hair. You’re literally only minutes removed from finding out some catastrophic truths about him, yet you’re still panicked enough by his presence to sniff away your sorrow and quickly compose yourself into upright nonchalance. “Hello.”</p><p class="p1">“You good?”</p><p class="p1">“Fine.”</p><p class="p1">He eyes you with suspicion, he’s probably just seen that miniature breakdown. But you can also tell he wasn’t prepared for you to engage in an actual conversation with him. He hesitates for a full ten seconds in deciding what to say. The top of his sneaker bumps at the marble step of the fountain as he quietly asks, “You going to the Bats game with Michael?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not, no.”</p><p class="p1">“Mimi told me you went to see her, to ask for Taeil Moon’s number.”</p><p class="p1">You were actually proud of yourself for a second in the house there, that you were able to put aside whatever this blow up between Jaehyun and his father induced in you to think about the greater good of the nation. But just the mention of the other woman has you slipping back into the danger zone of anguish.</p><p class="p1">Nowhere in that security footage did Mr. Jung say that Jaehyun had to take it this far, to fall in love with her, to have a blossom ceremony, to almost <em>get married,</em> whether or not it actually worked like it was supposed to. Jaehyun is not heartless enough to disregard a threat about his friend’s life, nothing more than that. He’d fulfilled his end of the shitty bargain, he got you to leave Neozone, and he’d still carried on with Mimi all the same. That’s nothing you can get in between, that’s real love right there.</p><p class="p1">You’re sure he caught the stutter-step of your breathing but you can’t care, you just shrug and reaffirm, “I did, but I’m allowed to change my mind.”</p><p class="p1">He puts his hands on his hips and rolls his eyes, “Change your mind about seeing your and No’s idol again? Nice one. Why are you really not going to the game?”</p><p class="p1">You’re tired, so fucking tired of lying, and he will see right through almost anything you tell him. So he gets the truth this time, “Because of Baekhyun.”</p><p class="p1">“What happened with Baekhyun? How do you even know him, anyways?” he asks the question he’s been holding in since you reunited.</p><p class="p1">“He and Kyungsoo…” it’s not lost on you the way he doesn’t attempt to hide his grimace at the other man’s name, “were friends in college. And he did a lot for me while I was in Elyxion.”</p><p class="p1">“I can’t believe you left without a word! I had to find out from <em>Yuta</em>!”</p><p class="p1">Oh. Oh, is he upset about that? He seems to be, because he’s panting and red-faced and not only because he exercised. You’re torn between wanting to apologize, because you never wanted to upset him in this, you’d only done what felt necessary at the time. And wanting to flip him right off, knowing that it was because of his behavior that you’d been aching to leave. There’s also a third channel of emotion trying to dial itself into you, the niggling, lingering wonder if that behavior was not purely his own. You’re really having a hard time coming to terms with what you’ve seen. The Mr. Jung you know is not the kind of person who would threaten his son, his only child that he's openly adored all these years.</p><p class="p1">You choose to ignore literally everything he said, pretend he hadn’t just had an emotional outburst, pretend you’re not in turmoil, and move along, “Anyways, Baek did not show up to his fan sign in Chain City, so as his stylist and team member, I need to go see if he is okay.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun thinks for a second, forever a loyal fan of the singer, and remembers his schedule exactly, “He was in Zero Mile before. You’re going to Zero Mile?!”</p><p class="p1">You nod.</p><p class="p1">“You can’t go there,” he orders, taking a step closer to you, “Dad told me that’s where all the Neozone leaders convene!”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t know what John’s told you, that the military’s crossed into Elyxion long ago, but he’s given you a warning all the same. The tiny well of trust you thought had run dry starts to bubble because of that, you’re convinced enough to tell him, “No, they won’t be there. Nobody will, because they’re invited to a baseball game.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s mouth forms a round o as he puts together the pieces of the puzzle you’ve scattered for him, the plan you’ve formed to have your one shot at Siwon Choi’s empty mansion. He takes another step closer and asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p class="p1">“Forgive me for being wary of Regent Jung’s son,” you sneer, remembering why you lost your faith in him in the first place. How could you ever trust him again after what you saw on that security footage?</p><p class="p1">But he’s desperate to deny that connection, grabbing your arm and reminding you harshly, “I’m not like him, you know I’m not.” When you open your mouth to tell him that yes, yes he is, he barrels forward, “Before you ask me to prove it, I swear to you, I’ve never said a word to him about your parents or those people from Elyxion being here.”</p><p class="p1">With your surprise, your hand involuntarily comes to hold his arm in return, and he lets out the most frustrated sigh, “And this is exactly the reason why I tried to be as vague as I could with Mimi! Because I couldn’t be sure if I could trust her, and never, ever wanted to put you in danger.” His tone goes disheartened, drained from all the fighting, “But she told me you talked about it, she knows our marriage is fake, and I don’t know what to do anymore.”</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun,” you gasp, not at all expecting that could possibly be the reason why he’d kept things appropriately distanced from his girlfriend. Not because of his desire to hold onto the status quo of their relationship, but only on your behalf. You can’t stop thinking about how it seemed like their relationship had been set up by their fathers for some reason unknown to you. This is… almost indirect evidence, it’s almost, sort of, kinda, halfway there the proof that would convince you.</p><p class="p1">“Please don’t go to Zero Mile, please don’t,” he begs, now gripping both of your arms, “I can send someone to look for Baekhyun.”</p><p class="p1">You trust him, you trust him, even after everything you still trust him. He wouldn’t have said any of this otherwise, it’s too formidable for him to lie about. So you whisper the further truth to him, too, “It’s not just Baekhyun. It has something to do with Mark’s mom.”</p><p class="p1">The pads of his fingers press right down into the sinew of your arm as he curses lowly, “Oh, shit. Oh, <em>shit.</em>” His eyes search yours, then the last ditch hope he has to keep you here bursts out, “Is there anything, anything I can do to convince you not to go.” It’s him and it’s you and it’s Mark, and he can’t stop you, but he’s trying anyways.</p><p class="p1">You gently take his hands off of you and shake your head, “No.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun knows you knows that this move is borne out of nothing but loyalty, and he can only concede, “Okay. Do what you need to do.” He turns to leave, the conversation at a close, but then he blurts something more, “But y/n. Please come home.”</p><p class="p1">His heart is calling to you, beating ragged in his chest. You cannot deny yourself the simple pleasure of running over and hugging him, for the first time since he’d held you in your bed that night. He stumbles with the sudden movement, but lifts you into his grasp, his hands delicate across the canyon scar carved in your back, like he’s committed every marking of it to memory. Your feet dangle off the ground as you surrender yourself to his hold, face burrowed into the warmth of his shoulder. You stay in his arms for the length of time it takes for your hearts to meld in synchrony, only one crushing beat, and then you go.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>told u shit would be happening. thank u for reading cuties</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. lycoris radiata</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This, not any of the other childish shit you’ve felt before, is real fucking heartbreak.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>trigger warning: violence and blood mentions. none of it is very explicitly graphic but just be careful if these topics will bother you!</p><p>additional disclaimer: the zero mile "zodiac belief" discussed here is totally made up/fake and is not intended to offend or make a mockery of any specific religious views. if you are made uncomfortable by the depiction, please, please let me know and I will of course edit.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“I don’t think is going to work. I have a bad feeling about this.”</p><p class="p1">You’re beyond pissed off John’s waited until this moment to voice his concerns, when you’re huddled in the shrubbery outside of Siwon Choi’s mansion in Zero Mile. This could’ve been something he brought up on the deathly silent two hour drive here, when you were turning up the driveway and hiding the van, when you were putting your all black disguises on. Instead, he’s waited until now, when any last word can convince him that you shouldn’t be doing this.</p><p class="p1">“It is,” Mark bites out, not wanting his friend to blow the mission when you’re this close. “We know he’s not here right now, Dad sent us proof of him at the stadium with Taeyeon.”</p><p class="p1">“But he has tons of employees, they were all over the mansion.”</p><p class="p1">“Which is why you’re here with us, you’re our way in,” Yuta reminds him of the decision you’d ultimately made to include him. “For all they know, you just went out with your dad and came back.” You know it’s not coincidence and not luck that there hasn’t been a word from General Suh about his son’s disappearance from the mansion. His silence is entirely calculated, and the best you have is the hope that whatever consequences you face are ones you can handle.</p><p class="p1">Johnny fidgets, uncomfortable with how he’s being put on the spot, and repeats again, “I just… I have such a bad feeling about this. I never got to explore the place because I was locked in one room the whole time as punishment for what I did.”</p><p class="p1">You know now that the military leaders had been staying at Siwon’s massive mansion as they worked on their plans to cross into Elyxion, but yet again, there’s nothing that’s come of it. There’s been no news report, no rumors, no burgeoning conflict, yet another reminder that the worst is yet to come.</p><p class="p1">“I mean none of us feel good about this but what can we do?”you concede, hoping that taking the sympathetic approach will get him over his apprehension. You’ve traveled all this way, you’re literal feet from the door, it would be idiotic of you to turn around now.</p><p class="p1">He sighs and asks Yuta, “You sure we’re going in dark?”</p><p class="p1">You’d accounted for this place being heavily protected, and Yuta had offered to take charge in dealing with that. He nods, “I called ahead to Colonel Huang’s son Renjun at the Zero Mile outpost. He gave me and Marco the times when they were changing guards, and also said he got the security cams temporarily disabled.” Recognizing what you’re doing, Yuta deflates his confidence, to get John to see he’s not the only one worried. “I trust him, but it’s hard to know.”</p><p class="p1">Johnny knows he’s outnumbered, the three of you are hell-bent on going inside no matter what, so he blows out one more exhale and takes charge, “Okay, remember, this place is so fucking big we’re going to have to split up. Yu and I will go alone because we’re trained, but you two stick together.” You and Mark clasp hands for a second in reassurance, as Johnny continues on, “We have two hours, give or take, that’s how long it’ll be for them to return if they hear something. If anything happens, walkie talkie each other and get the hell out.”</p><p class="p1">The group of you fall silent, weighing the ramifications of what is about to happen. Out of all the things you’ve willingly walked into in your life, this is by far the most dangerous, and by far the one thing you’re most convinced you need to do.</p><p class="p1">John steels himself, lowering the brim of his cap over his face and walking out from the bushes to mount the first step leading into the mansion. He’s about to go up the second when he pauses, tosses a devastatingly sad grin back to you, and proclaims, “I don’t think I’ve said this enough, but I love you guys.”</p><p class="p1">You suppose loving them was your destiny, after all.</p><p class="p1">“Love you too, brother,” Mark echoes. “For forever.”</p><p class="p1">Assured of your commitment to the plan and to each other, Johnny nods once and then makes his way up the rest of the stairs. He raises one confident hand to the pearl marble knocker, and a detonation of a thud rings out when he knocks against the door.</p><p class="p1">The door opens a crack, and you hear a faint voice, “Mr. Suh?”</p><p class="p1">“Sunny, oh thank god!” Johnny gasps in false relief at the sight of the housekeeper on the other side of the door. “I was out with my father and he sent me back because I wasn’t feeling well!” To punctuate his lie, he takes a very dramatic stagger past the threshold of the door, blocking her opportunity to close the door on him.</p><p class="p1">“Mr. Suh, be careful!” she yelps, seizing his slumping, huge form with one of her arms, totally baffled to see him there like that. “Let me take you to your room.”</p><p class="p1">The motion of catching him has caused the door to fling wide open, giving you the perfect avenue of opportunity to slip inside the house. “Go, go, go!” Yuta hisses the moment her back is turned.</p><p class="p1">Stumbling out of the bushes in the essence of haste, and on the off chance the cameras are still on, you, Mark, and Yuta sprint your way up the stairs and silently slip inside. Sunny and Johnny are slowly making their way up the stairs in a moment of planned deception, giving you the perfect opportunity to split up, unnoticed. Yuta nods his head towards the hallway behind you as he eyes another set of stairs that will take him up to the floor John’s bedroom is on, “Go that way! Be careful!”</p><p class="p1">He turns and runs before you can offer up a parting word of care, and entranced, you follow the flash of his silver ponytail until it disappears out of view. You fumble for Mark’s hand, muttering, “Come on, let’s go,” but you’re met with resistance.</p><p class="p1">You turn to your friend. His neck is basically broken as he stares up to the very top of the massive shelves encasing the relics that are as much a hallmark of this place as the tulip vases are in his. He’s going through the same shock and awe you went through upon being bombarded with the visual mishmash. He spins in place, soaking it all in as he breathes, “What the hell is all of this?”</p><p class="p1">Even though you’ve seen it before, you are as unnerved by the gold trinkets and silver totems as much as you were the first time, “I mean, isn’t Zero Mile known for this stuff?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, everyone knows the people here are into the Zodiac but this is… extra as fuck.”</p><p class="p1">“I have no idea dude, when I came here with Baek, Siwon only said it was all Taeyeon’s.”</p><p class="p1">Mark meanders over to the nearest display to where he’s standing, marveling at all of the gilded Libra pendants that are arranged in a pentagram, before saying, “I will always respect their customs, but anyone who is this obsessed is a bit strange, no?” He walks down the length of the shelf, fingers drifting past a weaving of the moon phases and a Pisces paper talisman, before finishing, “Like does this stuff just sit here? Usually it’s used for like their rituals or whatever, not that I know what they are.” He lets out a sigh, taking another glance around the room and griping, “They're such fucking weirdos.”</p><p class="p1">Your shoe toes at a Zodiac disk carved into what must be pure twenty-four carat gold as you look through an arrangement of family photos that is centered within the tchotchke display. Photos of Taeyeon and Siwon smiling at each other on their wedding day, her holding a bouquet of eerie spider lilies; of them with Premier Kim at an event at the Pandora building, black and white images of their ancestors. Beyond the obvious observation that having this much stuff is indeed really strange, it’s odd - in this opulent spectacle of wealth - that they’ve chosen to include a personal touch.</p><p class="p1">“I’m not going to argue with th—,” the agreement keels over in your mouth when you catch sight of a picture frame in the middle of the shelf.</p><p class="p1">“Bee?” Mark catches onto your lack of continuation right away. “Bee, what is it?”</p><p class="p1">It’s a photo of four men, all dressed in the same white suits, all wearing identical, laughing smiles. Captioned <em>The Choi Boys - Siwon, Matthew, Wonho, Woozi, </em>it’s a rather nondescript family portrait, much like the ones you have in your home. That’s not what gives you pause, it’s looking at Siwon on the left, and registering the heights of who must be his brothers. Matthew is towering over the other three, Wonho is perfectly proportioned at a medium height, and Woozi is the shortest of the trio, his head only coming up to his middle brother’s chin.</p><p class="p1">Gulping nervously, you force yourself not to blurt it right away, “I didn’t know he had siblings.”</p><p class="p1">“I mean, neither did I. But why are you so freaked out?”</p><p class="p1">Even though you’ve apparently given yourself away already, you don’t want to tell Mark the reason for the picture catching your eye, not until you are further convinced that it’s not just a delusion. Instead, you tap the walkie talkie function on your watch, calling through to your contact, “Yu, it's me.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a scratch of feedback, and Yuta’s concerned voice comes rocketing through your device, “You good?”</p><p class="p1">“Fine,” you confirm. “Is there all this Zodiac stuff where you are?”</p><p class="p1">There’s overlapping sounds of breath on the other end, clueing you into the fact that he’s managed to get back with John, before he denies, “No, I don’t think so. Once I left the entryway, things got really minimalistic.”</p><p class="p1">“Great, thanks. I’ll keep you posted.” You click off the call, then turn back to Mark, keeping it vague but urgent, “There’s something off about this, we need to look around.”</p><p class="p1">“We already know it’s fucking w—,”</p><p class="p1">“Excuse me!”</p><p class="p1">Interrupted by a voice that is not yours, and definitely not the deep male voices of your other friends, Mark freezes in place, the both of you exposed where you’re standing still in the middle of the entryway.You’d been so caught up in the bizarre extravagance and the discovery of the Choi brothers that you hadn’t considered Johnny's comment that a place this big surely employs a huge number of staff, anyone who could walk in and see you there.</p><p class="p1">Mark keeps his gaze locked on you, unwilling to turn around and find out who’s discovered you, so you do it for him, flicking your gaze past his shoulder to see Sunny, the housekeeper from earlier, flying down the stairs. She’s only one woman, smaller than you, dressed in a long skirt and apron with a lion pattern, you could easily knock her out own your own. But she has a dozen avenues of help, a hundred ways of trapping you here. You snatch Mark’s hand, pulling him into you so you can protect each other.</p><p class="p1">“Who are you—,” she begins to bark out, but you bringing the man towards you shifts the positioning of his head so she can finally see his face. She stops several feet away from you, and softly exclaims, “Mark Lee?”</p><p class="p1">At the sound of his name, Mark fully turns to face her. His brow furrows in a wave, like he doesn’t recognize her, yet somehow does. He asks, “Do I know you?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” Sunny murmurs, features melting into softness as she takes Mark in. “But I know you.” You know you’ve never seen her before, never heard her name, even from old stories you’ve heard. And though Mark is well known in the region, he is not that famous for this kind of recognition. So how in the world does Siwon Choi’s housekeeper know him well enough to address him by name?</p><p class="p1">She fumbles in the pocket of her apron, glancing frantically around the room as she does so. You clutch at Mark’s arm in a panic, convinced she’s going to pull out some kind of weapon, not feeling any reprieve when she ends up pulling out a nondescript silver cuff and shoving it into your friend’s unsuspecting hand. “Take it,” she whispers, words ghosting out to the room with urgency, “Third shelf in the fourth display, fit it into the silver Sagittarius totem.”</p><p class="p1">She flees back up the stairs.</p><p class="p1">“What the hell was that?” you cough, eyes still burning onto the floor tile where she’d been only a moment ago. “What is that?” There are no engravings, no patterns or designs or anything that matches the horoscope theme that pervades this room. It’s a thin slip of argent, not much else.</p><p class="p1">Mark shrugs, flipping the metal in his hand as he weighs the options, “I have no idea. We have to see though, right?” This could be a trap, but that can’t be what’s going on here. Sunny had looked too afraid of being caught to make you believe that you’re walking into a trap. You and Mark both know you’ve been gifted with a huge boon, and it is up to you to use it to your advantage.</p><p class="p1">After you’ve walked over to the display she’d given you the exact directions to, you try to make sense of the pile of nonsense. Moving aside the tiara littered with the Cancer symbol and the carved monkey figurines, you see it, the sculpture of an arrow pointing skywards, crafted with matching silver. It’s melded into the wall, as if it’s a part of the structure of the building, and there’s a narrow opening crossed through the bottom portion of the totem.Mark’s fingers tense around the missing piece of the puzzle, knowing that it will fit perfectly into that open space, completing the symbol.</p><p class="p1">“Do it,” you urge him. “We can’t stop now.”</p><p class="p1">His breath takes a stutter step of nervousness, but his hands are true, pushing the silver band right into the cavern of possibility. You’re half expecting a sword to swing out from the shelf out of nowhere, or to have a bomb dropped on you from above. In fact, nothing as remotely dramatic as that that happens. There’s a barely noticeable creaking noise, that you might’ve otherwise missed if your senses were not roaring at maximum capacity, and that’s it.</p><p class="p1">You and Mark turn simultaneously to see that Sunny’s directive has revealed that the grand marble steps of the entryway do not actually stop descending at the floor you’re on. They extend further into the ground, through the trap door floor tile you’ve sprung, the exact one she had stopped on.</p><p class="p1">All pretenses of care are lost on the two of you. You don’t tiptoe around your discovery, you don’t call for backup, you don’t weigh your options. Your eyes meet each other, and there’s no verbal communication needed to make the recklessly foolish decision to go sprinting towards the newly-opened orifice with abandon. The flash of Mark’s phone camera goes on when you stumble into darkness, running down what must be three straight flights of stairs. It’s scarcely sufficient to light the small landing you’re approaching, the white door that’s looming in your vision. This is it -  if it’s a trap you’re surely running to your demise - at least you’re with your best friend as you’re meeting your end.</p><p class="p1">You pass him as the stairs start to dwindle away, five more, four more, if you’re going to die, you’ll offer yourself up first, it’ll be less of a spectacle if you go and he doesn’t. Three steps left, two, one, your handle is on the metal doorknob, and then the wood is blasted wide open. Expecting to see more darkness, your eyes squint violently as you’re met with a flood of normal light, and the startled exclamation of humans.</p><p class="p1">You blink what must be a hundred times, trying to get your bearings, and after one more blink, it all comes into view. Xiumin, the lighting guy who Baek always says looks like a cat, is on the stool in the corner, talking to Jongdae, the doctor who travels with the crew on tour. Sleeping on the floor beside them is Onew, Baekhyun’s PR manager. This is the team, this is Baekhyun’s team, scattered around what looks like an apartment built into the basement of the mansion.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n?”</p><p class="p1">You whirl around in place, trying to find the source of your name, and see a familiar face, sitting next to a woman on the couch you don’t recognize. A shaky hand goes to cover your mouth as you gasp, “Suho?”</p><p class="p1">The older man’s handsome face collapses in utter relief when he sees that it’s you under your cap, and he bolts up off of the furniture to come to you. You collide in the warmest of hugs in the middle of the room you’ve discovered as he praises, “Oh, thank god!”</p><p class="p1">You hold onto him even tighter, not willing to let him go, even to ask, “What happened? Where’s Baek?”</p><p class="p1">Before Suho can answer, the tiniest voice chirps into your ear, “Mommy?”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s hand slips from yours as he takes a disbelieving step away from you and towards the couch that Suho just came from. That’s enough to get you to pry yourself out of Suho’s embrace, to follow your best friend as he continues walking towards the furniture. An overcoat of goosebumps covers your skin as you watch the scene unfold, the woman on the couch rising to meet your friend. His feet stagger in surprise when she does, giving you a clear view of the woman’s features. You’ve seen her pictures countless times over the years, have seen her smile on her eldest son’s face, the curve of her elegant eyes in her youngest son’s.</p><p class="p1">And you’ve heard her musical voice on old black and white security footage, “Marky. Is that you? Is that really you?”</p><p class="p1">You can’t see his face but you can just imagine the ray of sunshine that has consumed Mark right now as he cries, “Mommy. Mommy, it’s me.”</p><p class="p1">They cross the threshold of the remaining space together, hurried with the weight of years past, enveloping each other in the pinnacle of loving embraces, Mark folding himself into his small mother’s frame, reunited with her at last. This is proof that there is one sliver of good left in the world, that your pure-hearted, suffering best friend is finallybeing rewarded.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god, oh my god, my Marky,” she weeps, stain of her tears already visible against the dark fabric of his tee. Her fingers burrow into the breadth of his back, convincing herself that he’s there in the flesh, determined to never let him go again. She keeps her eyes closed, savoring the feel of holding her son again, and when her eyes flutter open, she catches sight of you there. Her lips curve up into the loveliest smile, and she turns her soft words to you, “And my y/n, you’re here too?”</p><p class="p1">The first tear waltzes into your eye at her familiar, warm address of you. <em>My y/n.</em> You have to remind yourself that you don’t actually know her, no matter how much it feels like you do. You bow your head in deference, then murmur, “Mrs. Lee? You know me?”</p><p class="p1">She pulls back from her son’s embrace to hold his face, to kiss him on the cheek, and by the time she looks back to you, her smile is a snowflake of grief, “How could I not know the girl that loved my baby boy so fiercely?” She has two baby boys, two sons she’s loved with all her being. But in this instance, baby boy does not mean Mark. A flash of pain sears up the length of your back, shooting a twin spark into the healed bones of your left hand.</p><p class="p1">“No, Mom. No,” Mark whispers, face crumbling when he comes to the same conclusion. His voice breaks, plain in its devastation, “You didn’t see that, please tell me you didn’t.”</p><p class="p1">There’s never been a more reluctant nod than her minuscule one now, followed by her heartbroken, “I did. They made me watch.”</p><p class="p1">This is what you’d tried to warn him about — the penetrating rage, the confusing guilt, the crippling regret that will surely follow upon realizing that his mother had been watching each minutely painful experience that had been stabbed into his life these past few years. That his mother had to watch her own son die, just as he had.</p><p class="p1">Exactly as predicted, Mark’s face hardens, voice going steely cold, “Who is they. Mom, tell me, who is they?” Mrs. Lee trembles for a second, name catching in her throat as she contemplates what telling her son will unleash.</p><p class="p1">“Siwon Choi,” Suho answers for her, sending a chill cutting through your chest, “and his wife.”</p><p class="p1">You feel faint.</p><p class="p1">Mark grits his teeth, trying to compose himself so he doesn’t explode in front of his fragile mother, and takes his time to bite out, “They’ve had you here this whole time? You and all the others?” There were sixteen people taken in the Night of Darkness, a number that’s been burned in your brain since knowing there were sixteen victims of the bombing at XM, one of them being Kyungsoo’s old fiancée.</p><p class="p1">“Yes, they have held us here, but—,”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n! Y/n!”</p><p class="p1">The shrill call of Yuta’s voice through your watch cuts Mrs. Lee off before she can explain how she’s come to be in this place. You hold up an apologetic hand, room falling silent as you connect the devices and answer, “Yu, I’m here. ”</p><p class="p1">There’s a moment of quiet stillness where there’s no sound, not of Mark’s heavy breathing, not of your heart beating in your ears. Then, there’s a one two punch of the slapping of sneaker soles against the ground, and Yuta’s frenzied yell, “I’m with John, we have to go, now! Renjun just radioed and said there are guards headed our way!”</p><p class="p1">The tension in the room ratchets into an inferno.</p><p class="p1">Not wasting any time, you keep the line open as you grab the man beside you, “Suho, where is Baek?”</p><p class="p1">“He’s at the stadium, he’s singing the national anthem,” Suho explains the singer’s absence from the group. “He’s been with them in Pandora this whole time.”</p><p class="p1">That's a bombshell you weren't ready for, but there's no time to waste with unpacking it. Satisfied that Baekhyun’s not hidden away somewhere else here, and is as relatively as safe as he can be, you respond with matched urgency, “We have what we need, Yu, meet us at the car!” You tap the call closed, then turn right to Mark’s mother, informing her politely, “Ma’am, we have to go," before addressing the whole room, “Everyone, we have to go, now! Leave everything!”</p><p class="p1">No hesitation exists within the occupants of the room, all at once, they scramble up from their positions, Suho leading them right through the door you’ve opened. You stay behind to make sure everyone is clear, and watch as Mark holds a hand out, “Come on, Mom, I’ll carry you.”</p><p class="p1">Once he’s got her safely arranged on his back, you allow him to go up the stairs first, only following when you’ve made certain not a single person is left behind. It feels like a decade has passed since you’ve descended the stairs you're running up, unsure of what’s to come once you make it back into the real world. As soon as you emerge from beyond the trap door, Mark pulls the cuff out of the trigger in the wall, and the floor tile creaks closed. If it were not for the group of stragglers standing in the entryway, nothing would’ve looked any different.</p><p class="p1">You catch a flash of silver at the top of the stairs, and you gasp, “Yuta!” He’s alone, sprinting at maximum speed, and that is what forces your hand of realization, that you’re about to face the highest level of danger. He’s alone. Why is he alone? “Where’s John!” you scream, anxiously darting your gaze around the space to try and find him, hoping your voice will do the summoning.</p><p class="p1">“I’m here!” Johnny hollers, skidding around the corner, hair flying everywhere. He looks otherwise unharmed, so, satisfied that you’re all together once again, you turn to leave this awful, awful place.</p><p class="p1">“Wait!” Mrs. Lee’s sharp order from upon Mark’s back stops you before you can get a hand on the door. You turn back to see her staring at the housekeeper hovering in the hallway, content smile on her face at the sight of the larger group. “Sunny,” Mrs. Lee addresses her comfortably, “Come on, they’re taking us back to Neozone!”</p><p class="p1">The other woman shakes her head, resolute, “Somebody has to stay behind, otherwise they’ll know.”</p><p class="p1">You’re sure they get trespassing alerts and robbery attempts all the time with this amount of treasure. You need to make sure this comes across as one. There needs to be no stone overturned, nothing out of place, no indication this had been anything but an accidental trip of the alarm. Mrs. Lee gestures her friend over and instructs her son to give the silver ring back into her care. She grabs Sunny’s hand, flashing her a thankful, encouraging smile, and then gives you the briefest of nods over her son’s head.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You gesture, and together, the group of you go walking out of the mansion. You’d parked the car just past the visitor’s entrance gate, all you have to do is walk through the half mile of dirt pathway and you’ll be in the protection of the vehicle. Huddled together in a small clump, you head directly out to the parked van, trying to stay in the coverage of the shrubbery. You allow yourself to think, when you’re three quarters of the way there and Baekhyun’s crew has started to load themselves into the van, that maybe the whole thing had just been a misunderstanding. That Yuta had somehow gotten the wrong information from Renjun. Or that maybe Sunny had managed to get on the phone on your behalf and call the whole thing off as her misjudged error.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">It’s nothing but naïveté to think that, because you look down, and the ground right where Mark’s left foot had just been explodes in a loud crack. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Run!” you scream, and they take off as bullets start to whiz by, narrowly missing your group to the right and left. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">You whip around and you can see snipers on the roof, aiming right at the cluster of you. Pushing you unarmed individuals forward first, Yuta and John fall back with their guns, hazarding a turn back to fire errant shots off at the assailants positioned closest towards you. They’re keeping pace with the rest of the group, showing off their training as they skillfully pick off the Neozone soldiers one by one, but John takes a step further by actually stopping and letting you run ahead, giving him a firmer vantage point to aim from. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“What are you doing?!” you shriek as you try to grab onto him. “Come on, John!” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not letting you die here,” he shouts, and a shot from the roof hits the shrubbery of the bush that’s grown right by his face. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">Yuta runs up to stand beside his friend, gun aimed right back at the display of force, the two of them razing down opponents like it’s a training competition back at the base. The men keep firing as if they’re possessed, going through round after round. You know you’re going to have to visit the Neozone church to thank someone for the miracle that they don’t get hit. When the next shot shatters into the tree in your proximity, you throw yourself into the ground to protect yourself from the wooden shrapnel. You don’t waste a minute hidden in the dirt, you spring up as soon as the second of danger is over.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">In one moment, you’re entreated with gory, twin sounds. The first is a blood-curdling howl - you look over to see Yuta staggered over in pain, rivulets of crimson blood streaming down his firing arm, gun smoking in his hand. But as much as that should be the worst thing you’ve ever seen, that was not the only crash you’d picked up on. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">No, there was the unmistakable, dull thud of a bullet hitting its target. But it hadn’t been the sound of your friend hitting his target, it had been the sound of a sniper hitting his. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Of a bullet embedding deep within someone’s body, John’s body, the entire length of it stiffening and starting to tumble to the ground.Your arms are moving of their own accord, managing to catch John as much as you can, his dead weight careening into you, Yuta barely managing to keep you from collapsing by managing to grab John with his uninjured hand, hoisting him up.  </span>
  <span class="s1">Yuta carries most of the burden of your friend’s body, screaming in pain when he’s forced to utilize both arms to lift him, with you trying your best to keep the other side of Johnny propped up. Together, you pick him up and drag him like a sack of flour the remaining few yards, keeping pressed to the foliage as much as you can so you won’t be as blatant moving targets as you had been. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You heave him into the van as a bullet crashes against the metal of the door, squeezing yourself into the nonexistent space amongst all the people you’ve rescued. Yuta climbs in behind you, slamming the door closed in the nick of time, as another slug explodes against the glass of the window. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Drive, Suho, drive!” you shout. Suho does as he’s told from where he’s sat in the driver’s seat, absolutely lead footing it, rubber screeching against the road as he ratchets the speed up right to maximum capacity with no regard for the law. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“John!” Mark’s broken cry snaps your attention back to the urgent status of your friend. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The matter of hand now is to find out if the man before you is actually dead or not. He’s unconscious, head flopped back against the legs of the person he’s splayed out against, eyes shut, forehead glistening with sweat. The dark fabric of his shirt has concealed most of the carnage, but the injury is obvious enough to identify, a cratering bullet wound right through the centered meat of his chest, sternum splintered only inches away from his heart. The rise and fall of his chest is shallow, barely managing a millimeter of lift, but it’s still going. His reliable heart is still pumping. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">As Jongdae pushes everyone aside to try and staunch the bleeding, your hands flit over the gash, completely at a loss for how he’s supposed to heal a <em>bullet wound</em>. You burst into a fit of hyperventilation, he’s lying before you in the exact same way Jeno had, the lifeblood careening over him like Jeno’s had, the same hopeless feeling consuming you from the inside out. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck do we do!” Mark shouts, fingers shaking as they hold his friend’s face, the falling tears mixing with the blood on his skin.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Yuta looks up from where he’s bandaging his own cratered arm with a strip he’s torn off the bottom of his shirt and instructs, “We have to go home.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">You sit back with a rush of air, hand clutching at John’s ankle as Mark shakes his head resolutely, “No, no, it’s like almost two hours to Neozone, he could bleed out before we cross the city borders!” Even if Jongdae somehow manages to stabilize Johnny enough to make it back, where on earth are you going to take him?</span>
</p><p class="p1">You’re prepared to tell Suho to do the u-turn of his life, to send the van right to the hospital in Zero Mile, when there’s a very soft plea from the car seat behind you, “Marky, look at Mommy.” Her order had only been for her son, but everyone who can looks to her, and she whispers, “You can’t let them take Dad.”</p><p class="p1">“Dad?” Mark asks in confusion. “Dad will be fine.”</p><p class="p1">He turns to worry over Johnny again, but his mother won’t let go of her request, “No, look at me. Look at me, lovey.” Once their gazes are locked, satisfied by his obedience, she continues on, “You need to know the truth about me.”</p><p class="p1">“I already know you’re from Elyxion, Mom, it doesn’t matter to me,” he brushes her revealed identity off without a care, like he’s already told you, but that’s not all that she wants him to know.</p><p class="p1">Her fingers smooth out over the skirt of her dress, lost in contemplation, silence punctuated by the whir of tires over the asphalt. Her voice goes dreamy as she starts her story, “Back when I was just a girl secretly from Elyxion in love with a boy from Neozone, I knew that I was coming dangerously close to being exposed to society. Poppa and Grandmama were pressuring us to have a blossom ceremony, but I did not have a seed packet. I was young then, and thought I could do anything, so my sister told me I should just steal one. Minister Lee was old even then, it was no problem to slip into the building and pluck one out of his office like I was picking a flower from the field behind our house.”</p><p class="p1"><em>The generation before you thought it was all the rage to steal flower seeds from me. </em>Holy shit.You thought that had been a one-off, eccentric comment from Minister Lee, not expecting it would’ve held any weight within the context of your life.</p><p class="p1">She stares out the window, to the sliver of mansion still visible in the distance, to the empty road behind you, and reveals the long-awaited truth of that horrible event, “I didn’t even think to check if security cameras there, which was my biggest mistake. Everybody my age knew somebody who’d stolen a packet, but there were only sixteen of us unlucky enough to get caught on footage. How it was leaked, I don’t know, but it was, and we were all taken together.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s pained exhale rockets right through you, a phantom recall of the anguish he’s held for all this time.</p><p class="p1">“But why?” Suho asks, peering back through the rear view mirror. He and the rest of Baekhyun’s team understand the potential political implications of the tale, being from Elyxion themselves.</p><p class="p1">“To punish us, for daring to pretend we were from Neozone,” Mrs. Lee states in the firmest voice yet, sending a shockwave of pain through you and your friends. You and Mark are both half from the other region, Yuta’s love was born in the region’s biggest city, in any other life, it could’ve been you or your families captured here. </p><p class="p1">“But where were all those people?”</p><p class="p1">At her son’s further question, Mrs. Lee only pulls out a small, old phone she’s hidden in the pockets of her cardigan, and takes a few seconds to flip through to something. That turns out to be a video, filling up the screen with the emerald green hue of a manicured lawn. You take the device from her, holding it out so everyone in the back of the van can see, and then you press play.</p><p class="p1">Appearing like they’ve taken all the talismans off the walls in the entryway, the expanse of grass is covered in an organized, chaotic pattern of glittering gold and silver. From this concealed, shaky point of view, you can’t tell what it is, you can only spot a familiar head of short blonde hair sat in the midst of it.It is wildly jarring, to see Taeyeon in the middle of this set up, dressed only in a linen shift, so different from the professional aura she projects.</p><p class="p1">Siwon is dressed in matching linen pants and a tunic, pacing back and forth behind her, in a careful dance around a certain set of the totems that you realize must be a traditional Zero Mile ritual. On the ground, she rocks back in forth in place, eyes rolling to the back of her head, as her body convulses and she chants something unintelligible. Like it’s being controlled at the end of a nefarious puppet string held by her husband, one of Taeyeon’s arms starts to lift from her side as the rocking increases and her pitch heightens, and it descends right onto the gold Zodiac disk you recognize.</p><p class="p1">When she pulls her hand off of the plate, it’s covered in a crimson substance that shines in the light, and she uses two of her fingers to swipe a double stripe of red across her forehead.</p><p class="p1">“What the actual fuck is that?” Mark spits, pausing the video in his quest to answer the question you all share. The juxtaposition of the grainy screen above John’s lifeless body causes you to gulp in trepidation.</p><p class="p1">“His wife, she is, or claims to be…” Mrs. Lee searches for the words, eyes closed so she doesn’t have to see the image, “strong enough in her beliefs to be blessed with clairvoyance. After the first turn of the year we were captured, they came to the room and grabbed this man that I knew, who bagged groceries at the store in the corner. He never came back, but she did, streaked in blood that listed out numbers, which we later figured out were dates.”</p><p class="p1">You’re about to scoff, to tell her that you mean no disrespect but how could anyone possibly <em>see the future</em>, when you see that Mark’s fast-forwarded the video. The chanting has ratcheted up into feral screams, still unable to audibly comprehend, and both of them are practically seizing with effort. But what you see needs no explanation.</p><p class="p1">Right where a crystalline tear would drop if she were to cry, are two numbers, streaked in blood. The first, an eleven, the second, twenty-three.</p><p class="p1">You feel yourself gag with the realization, with the sear of that particular month and day into your frontal cortex. Mrs. Lee does the favor of explaining the context to the rest of the van, “All of the awful things that have happened in our nation as of late, they all came on days that appeared in one of her visions. Like President Park’s death, the bombing at XM University, and in this case, baby boy’s disappearance.”</p><p class="p1">November Twenty-Third. You can still see the calligraphy on the poster outside of the greenhouse at Changmin’s blossom ceremony, the beautiful looping script spelling out November Twenty-Second. And the next day had changed everything.</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t know the rituals here in Zero Mile were sacrificial, but this is definitely it,” she’s still talking, but you’re barely listening, you’re not sure how this is even possible. “Sunny took that video for me that year, we have several of these from recent years. They let her serve them instead of keeping her locked up since they found she had some Neozone ancestry in her bloodline.</p><p class="p1">“It’s been fourteen years, and there’s only the two of us left. That’s why they took these people, I’m certain, to replenish the stock of us that had almost dwindled.”Mrs. Lee shoots a sympathetic glance up to Suho, then clutches at her heart as her broken whisper comes out, “And I’m sure they held on to me for last because of who I was.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s face goes a vomitous green, and he closes his eyes as he leans back against the car door, whispering in return, “I just don’t get why.”</p><p class="p1">She’s explained so much, but left more questions than answers, questions you can’t even begin to comprehend here in a hurtling van, with your almost dead friend in your lap, in the grey zone between danger and safety. Especially not when the laser of Mrs. Lee’s determined voice shoots across the car, “Marky. Today was one of the days that she saw in her vision for this year.”</p><p class="p1">Michael. That’s what she meant by <em>you can’t let them take Dad.</em> Have you unwittingly led him right into whatever ambush they’ve set for him? Mark’s eyes are as round as the moon as he understands what he’s saying, and they dart right down to where John’s breathing is still fighting against the cruel hand of death.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve got him. I think it’s just a flesh wound,” Jongdae lies, bless his heart, recognizing the grave matter at hand that he’s just been thrust into.</p><p class="p1">“Jongdae.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve got him, he’s still breathing.”</p><p class="p1">“We’ll take you two to the stadium first,” Yuta cuts in, taking charge of the situation, “then we’ll go right to the hospital.”</p><p class="p1">There’s nothing you can do to change John’s fate, but you may be able to twist the knife out of Michael’s yet. Mark is still unsure if he’s going to be able to leave his childhood friend, dangling on the precipice of life, even at his Dad’s expense. You have to make the decision for him. You catch the driver’s eye in the mirror and you nod your head, severe, yet steady, and inform him, “Suho, we’ll do our best to get Baek.”</p><p class="p1">His mouth tightens, fingers flexing on the steering wheel, then he nods, “Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">There’s matching sighs of relief from mother and son as you take over the decision making for the Lees, switching positions with Yuta so he can add a stronger hand to Jongdae’s in applying pressure to John’s wound. You formulate your plan, “Yu, don’t take him to the hospital in city center, go somewhere on the outskirts of the city. Once the doctors have him, take Mrs. Lee to my house.” You turn to the woman, the woman who knows exactly what your heart is made up of, and you put a hand over hers, nervously twisted in her lap, “Mrs. Lee, your sister is here. She’ll meet you when you’re back in Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">Her eyes light up finally, at the premise of reunion with the rest of her extended family, and she grips you tightly, “Kyungah is here? Really?”</p><p class="p1">“She and Dohun’s daughter are waiting for you. We’ll get your husband, ma’am, do not worry.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t know if it’s a truth or a lie, but it’s what she deserves to hear.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“This is so fucking fucked up,” Mark wheezes as you weave through the cars in the parking lot of the stadium, hurrying along to where the VIP entrance is. “Blood rituals? Visions? John getting fucking shot?!”</p><p class="p1">You need to keep walking, otherwise you might faint in the middle of this parking lot if you think too hard. “I know.”</p><p class="p1">“All for what? Some stupid long-held prejudice.”</p><p class="p1">“I know!” You hold the same fiery anger he does, the two of you can rage for the rest of the night once you get Michael out of there, but you have more information he needs to hear first. “Mark, listen to me. I never saw their faces, but his three brothers in that picture.” You gulp, but the clog of nausea lingers, confirmation that you’re not as crazy for thinking this, “They look just like the men who had me and the kid captured.”</p><p class="p1">Three of them, tall, medium, and small; Hefty, Pushy, and Mousy. There are probably many, many families in Dorado that have three sons in varying heights like theirs, a million permutations of other unrelated men available to be your masked captors, but you. You just have a feeling.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” Mark gasps, holding an arm out to stop you right in front of the entrance, “Oh my god, do you think they did it?”</p><p class="p1"><em>Yes. </em>“I don’t even know, but we have to hurry. I have the visitors passes.”</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">You flash the badge to the man standing guard, who nods once he sees the VIP designation and lets you and your friend pass through into the bowels of the stadium. You’ve never been this way before on any of your trips out to see a game, but the signs to the home team’s area are easy enough to follow as you send a message to Yuta that you’d made it in.But instead of turning to the escalator that will take you to where the boxes are, you come to a stop by a large championship banner from three years ago, as a fiery head of red hair pokes out of a side room. </span>
</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” Taeil Moon greets, half confused and half excited to see you there. “What are you doing back here already? The game isn’t over yet.”</p><p class="p1">You mirror him, eyebrows crinkling when you realize he’s not playing. It’s only the top of the seventh inning, unless he had a particularly bad game, he’d usually still be pitching now. “What are you doing back here?”</p><p class="p1">“I was hit in the head by a line drive in the first inning and Coach pulled me,” he explains, turning his head to show you the bandage by his ear. “You didn’t see?”</p><p class="p1">You shake your head and he beckons you closer. You pull Mark along, and once you’re inside the empty pitching room, you see that some blood’s seeped through the white fabric. That makes you think of John, wondering if he’s bleeding out in the middle of a hospital somewhere, and you swallow thickly, “Oh fuck. That’s not good.”</p><p class="p1">“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Taeil brushes your concern off, not realizing it’s not directed towards him. He turns to your companion with a friendly smile, “You’re Mark, right? Vice Premier Lee’s other son?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, that’s me—,”</p><p class="p1">“Would everyone please rise for the seventh inning stretch?” The announcer’s booming voice overtakes over the conversation, and you turn to the monitor that’s set up in the corner of the room. The camera pans over to the seats, and you see Premier Kim waving to the crowd, microphone in hand. “Singing tonight, we have a very special visitor, please put your hands together for Dorado’s Premier Kim!”</p><p class="p1">“Where’s Dad?”</p><p class="p1">You’re caught up in the thought of how much Jeno would’ve loved to be there with them, to sing the seventh inning stretch along with his father and family friends, when you register Mark’s question. You shrug, “What? I don’t know, he’s in the box with them somewhere.”</p><p class="p1">You turn your gaze away from the TV over to your friend, who’s blankly shaking his head, “Bee, he’s not there with them.” And before you can reassure him, say something like <em>maybe he just left</em>, Mark then says, “I don’t see Baekhyun, either, or Jae.”</p><p class="p1">You hate that it’s taken this to get you to more closely scrutinize the screen, but you do, only spotting Premier Kim in the center of it all, Kyungsoo by his right arm and Mr. Jung by his left. Taeyeon and Siwon are chatting with each other in the second row, the Security Minister next to her, and several other officials you don’t recognize. There’s no sight of the singer, though Suho said he was supposed to be here to sing the national anthem, and surely should’ve been in the VIP box, check one. And there is no head of curly hair beside the Regent as you would’ve otherwise expected, check two.</p><p class="p1"><em>Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd, </em>Premier Kim begins singing the baseball classic, voice not half bad for a politician. You’ve screamed this tune at the top of your lungs many a time, but it is creepy to do so now, the jingle causing a huge plethora of discomfort in you. <em>Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack, I don't care if I never get back. Let me root, root, root for the Baaaats, if they don't win it's a shame. For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out, at the old ball game!</em></p><p class="p1">The stadium roars in undying approval.</p><p class="p1">You feel sick to your stomach when Premier Kim does not give the microphone over to the ballpark employee that approaches him and instead keeps a hold on it. He pauses, contemplating what he’s about to say, then begins,</p><p class="p1">“Unfortunately, I must delay the game further and use this opportunity to make a solemn announcement to the citizens of this nation on public broadcast. In the past week, Pandora and Neozone troops together have crossed the border into the Elyxion region to arrest Oasis Regent Dohun Oh.”</p><p class="p1">There’s an echoed trio of similar grunts, “What.” “What the hell?” “I’m sorry, what?”</p><p class="p1">“Regent Oh conspired and was criminal accessory to the murder of Jeno Lee. Hired hitmen acting on his behalf kidnapped Mr. Lee, family seamstress Ms. Y/f/n y/l/n, and my son, Mr. Kyungsoo Do, in order to force myself and former Vice Premier Michael Lee into granting Elyxion independence.”</p><p class="p1">You and Mark are clutching each other out of the blue, no idea how you’ve come into proximity this quickly. It’s impossible, this is literally, utterly, completely impossible.</p><p class="p1">“That’s got to be a joke, right?” Taeil seems to feel the same way, even lacking the context you have. “Isn’t Regent Oh one of the only Elyxion politicians that actually seems okay with us?” More than that, he’s Mark’s mother’s <em>foster brother</em>, there’s no way he could’ve actually sent someone to murder his nephews.</p><p class="p1">Mark’s mouth opens and closes several times in your periphery before he picks out only one word he’s able to muster, “F-former. Former. Did he say former or am I making that up.”</p><p class="p1">You have absolutely no fucking clue what the hell came after the opening sentence of that first accusation. You don’t want to say anything to Mark that is false, anything that will spur him into dooming action. Taeil shoulders that responsibility for you, nodding and confirming, “He said former.”</p><p class="p1">“It is also my sad duty to announce that former Vice Premier Michael Lee has also been arrested today.”</p><p class="p1">Again, there’s a trio of involuntary gasps of shock, and you’re not entirely sure Mark hasn’t just re-broken the bones in your left hand when he strangulates it and breathes out, “Bee.”</p><p class="p1">No, this just, this can’t be.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim appears remorseful, as he gives the details matter-of-factly, “The first listed charge is for assault, stemming from a physical altercation occurring earlier this evening, against a member of our government."</p><p class="p1">You squint back at the spread of politicians behind the Premier and now you can tell that Regent Jung is sporting a massive black eye under the rim of his glasses. Is that it? Did Michael just get accidentally arrested for acting on your behalf, giving Mr. Jung the beating of his life in recompense for what he'd done on that video footage? That's bad, but not horrific, you and Mark could probably bail him out with no prob-,</p><p class="p1">"The second listed charge is for domestic terrorism, for organizing the bombing at XM University, intending to punish the citizens of Elyxion for their perceived wrongdoings against his missing wife, Jeongah Lee. The final charge is for the murder of late Premier Park.”</p><p class="p1">Okay, this is going too far now. Blaming Michael for the events that had happened at XM two years ago was already trying to stretch the believability of the charges, but implying that he had any hand in Premier Park’s death from <em>natural causes</em> is just laughable. Beyond the fact that Michael didn’t have a bad bone in his body, what could he possibly have had to gain from the Premier’s death? Half the time it seemed like he regretted even agreeing to be the Vice Premier in the first place.</p><p class="p1">“A re-investigation into the autopsy of our esteemed leader revealed that he did not pass on due to natural causes, but instead because he was poisoned. The identity of that poison matched the contents of a gift Mr. Lee sent Premier Park on the anniversary of his ascension, a bag of tulip tea. ”</p><p class="p1">Tulips. No.</p><p class="p1">“J and I helped him make that gift,” Mark murmurs, words coming out of their own accord with the way he’s staring at the monitor, unblinking, “We dried petals for a month beforehand.” No. No, no, they can’t have proof, it’s not real, they didn’t actually send him tulip tea, did they?</p><p class="p1">“We will be returning to Pandora tonight, and Jefferson Jung, current Regent of Neozone, will ascend to his position,” Premier Kim gestures to the man, who stands up and bows at his mentions. The action gives you a perfect frame to catch a glimpse of Kyungsoo, sitting there and watching his father speak with something akin to pride on his face. You can’t even properly place nor process Kyungsoo’s role in all of this because the leader continues to drone on, “Associates to these two men will be brought in and questioned for their involvement in the coming days. If you have any information that may aid us in our cases against them, please do not hesitate to contact the Security Ministry. Thank you, and may Dorado be forever blessed.”</p><p class="p1">Like they’ve just cut in from a run of the mill commercial break, the camera goes back to the field, and the Samurais pitcher fires a fastball over the plate.</p><p class="p1">As your fingers come to pinch at the portion of skin accessible within Mark’s grasp, to convince you that you’ve seen and heard what you’ve seen and heard, you faintly register Taeil’s muted gasp, “I literally can’t believe any of that. Was that what we actually just watched?”</p><p class="p1">“I might throw up,” Mark moans, words again floating into your ear without much comprehension. He repeats it again, “I might throw up, I’m throwing up,” before he wrenches his hand out of yours and goes stumbling to the trashcan by the wall.</p><p class="p1">Retching and heaving, he expels the contents of his tender stomach into the black bag as you feel like you might join him, belly swirling with the atomic bomb’s load of information detonated into your being. You swing your arm out wildly for support, feeling like you’re about to tumble to the ground, vomit on yourself, or some combination of all of the above. You claw one hand into Taeil’s arm, and press the other right into your eyes to alleviate the pounding headache.</p><p class="p1">“You have to get out of here.”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">“You have to get out of here,” Taeil shakes your shoulders, trying to get you to get ahold of yourself. “You could be considered associates!”</p><p class="p1">“But how!” you slur, delirious with pain, emotional and physical, hopelessness, despair, all sentiments you thought you’d done your retribution for. “People know both of us.”</p><p class="p1">Taeil keeps his hand on yours, the press of his rubber wedding ring into your skin your anchor into reality, as he walks over to the cabinet and rummages around for something. “The same way I escape the player entrance when I have a bad game. These.” You look up to see a set of Bats jerseys and caps, along with a pair of pretty garish looking wigs, disguises he’s used to escape the press after the rare poor outing on the mound. “My driver will take you home. Tell him you were Mooned, and he’ll know.”</p><p class="p1">With a shaky hand, you take the offering from him, voicing your inner question, “Why are you helping us? They could come after you, too.” He might be the most staunch Neozone loyalist there is, you haven’t ever picked his famous brain about his political leanings. He could holler for the guards and they’d have you locked up in an instant.</p><p class="p1">Taeil shrugs, trying to belie his worry with his extra-cool demeanor, “I’m just an athlete who currently has a concussion and who oops-,” as he speaks, he retrieves his phone, the device surely listing your phone number among the incoming calls, and tosses it right into the metal bucket of ice water by his feet. “Dropped his phone in his ice bath because of his injury. What more could I know?”</p><p class="p1">You’ll have Jeno to thank for this, for tying you up with the pitcher in this beautiful instance of silent understanding. You wouldn’t have done it without him.</p><p class="p1">Taeil Moon, Neozone’s most famous athlete, one of the greatest celebrities of the nation, looks you right in the eye and repeats the words you need to hear, “It takes a very special person to do the kind of thing you did.” He turns to Mark too, the man finally upright though he’s propped himself up on the rim of the garbage can, and says, “That kid was special to me, both of you are special to me. Be careful out there.”</p><p class="p1">He smiles at you, then smoothly exits the room to distract the press. You don’t waste a minute, you shove the auburn wig over your hair as best as you can, switching your black cap out for the red one with the snarling bat. Mark’s still in no state to flee, catatonic and unmoving, so you rush to him and button the jersey up over his bloodstained black tee, put the black curly wig over his blonde hair. You have no idea what you could possibly say to him. You’ve been faced with a million and one unprecedented scenarios in your friendship and always came out with something poignant and brilliantly comforting to say, but you’re at a total loss for words.</p><p class="p1">You can only attempt to brush your fingers over his on the trash bin and murmur, “Bumble.”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t move his hand away, but it’s because he can’t make any other movement. You’re not even sure how he’s able to grit out his warning, “Don’t. If you talk again I’m going to throw up or pass out probably both and you’re going to have to carry me home.”</p><p class="p1">He takes another moment to center himself out, then he withdraws his hands from his support trashcan and stands on his own two feet. He sways for a moment, but manages to stay upright, and catch your eye for a second long enough to tell you he’s ready to go. It lasts only a second, because it is replaced instantaneously by the most undiluted suffering you’ve ever seen on a human being’s face.</p><p class="p1">This, not any of the other childish shit you’ve felt before, is real fucking heartbreak.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>b-b-b-BOMBSHELLS EVERYWHERE</p><p>thank u for reading! xo, drop a comment with your thoughts!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. rosa chinensis minima</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I’ve set this for one minute. You let it run down and cool off, then talk through it, one by one, like the adults you are.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>surprise early drop because this is my favorite chapter :) no disclaimers, just enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The inside of your house is filled with cavernous silence when you swing open the front door. It takes a second to register it’s because you’re still in your disguises, and it comes across like you're two intruders breaking in. You and Mark had been too distracted in Taeil's car to disrobe, and had ultimately decided to keep them on just in case the military post somehow noticed that both security cameras on this hill have surreptitiously gone dark. With a sigh, you tug the wig and hat off of your head, and you bask in the comfort of your father’s whispered, “Sweet pea.”</p><p class="p1">But you can’t revel in that feeling, you don’t acknowledge your father’s greeting, only barking out to the group, “Where’s Mrs. Lee?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta materializes by your side, arm now bandaged, and assumes the place of reliable steadiness he’d occupied for so long. He informs you both, “She passed out when she heard the news, so we put her in your bed.” You must bristle at the phrasing, because he quickly reassures you, “Kyungah is with her, she’s safe.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t believe Mark actually looks at you for permission first, his baby boy eyes glistening with the tears that had fallen the entire ride here. You nod at him and whisper, “Go on, I’ve got this.”</p><p class="p1">You think with a massive note of irony, that you can’t believe the first time your best friend has ever gone in your bedroom is to comfort his comatose mother. The ironic feeling is so harrowing that you want to escape from living for a second. Looking around to no one in particular, you order, “Somebody get me a beer.” A woman you don’t recognize, probably an Exordium member, finds one in your fridge, and it’s only after you feel the slide of yeasty alcohol down your throat do you turn back to Yuta and ask, “How’s John?”</p><p class="p1">Not good, if the expression on his face is anything to go off of. “We took him to Neozone Community. He’s in surgery now, so we’re going to head back down once it’s over, but it’ll probably be in the morning. No idea if his dad knows.”</p><p class="p1">“God damn it,” you curse, “god fucking damn it.”</p><p class="p1">“What happened?” Yuta asks, loud enough that everyone knows their question is being answered, too. </p><p class="p1">“We were too fucking late,” you lament, savagely ripping off the label on your beer, and chugging the rest of it. Your fist hits the counter in your simmering fury, and you darkly mutter, “Arrived right as they sang the stretch, and he was already gone by then. Got out of there by the skin of our fucking necks, all because Taeil Moon got hit by a ball in the first inning and was there to save us.”</p><p class="p1">You’d almost, <em>almost</em> gone right to the VIP box after getting inside the stadium. You would’ve shown up there just as they announced Michael’s arrest. How fucking scary.</p><p class="p1">The creak of your front door and a following sentence blocks you from saying anything else, “Hey, sorry I’m late, came as soon as I could.”</p><p class="p1">You glance over at the newest visitor, surprised to see the Minister of Cultivation’s head assistant in your entryway, balancing a stack of papers in his hands. “What’s Jungwoo doing here?” you ask.</p><p class="p1">“To perform a wedding ceremony.”</p><p class="p1">“For who?”</p><p class="p1">Throughout the chaos and despair, Yuta still manages to brighten the feeling of your soul with his tiny smile, “Me.”</p><p class="p1">As wrapped up you were in the announcement of Michael’s arrest, you’ve completely forgotten that they’d also arrested Regent Oh. You glance over to your living room - your mother is sitting with her arm around a tear-stained Seulgi and Suho on the cushion next to her absolutely beside himself in tears. Yuta whispers so only you can hear, “They took her brother and mother too, so we’re going to try and keep her here as long as we can.”</p><p class="p1">You press your hand into your forehead as you walk over to where Yuta’s bride and her brother’s boyfriend are, finding this day more and more unbelievable. This should’ve been a happy moment to anticipate in the coming years, not one rushed in haste under a cloud of fear. More than that, no matter how nice he’s been, Lt. General Nakamoto is still in the Neozone military, you can’t imagine he would look upon this kindly.</p><p class="p1">You have to confirm, “Your parents?”</p><p class="p1">“Who cares,” Yuta states firmly, convinced he needs to do this. “This is the right thing to do.”</p><p class="p1">Your concern isn’t fully political, you want your dearest friend to have as much of a wondrous experience as he deserves. You soften your tone and change your phrasing, “Come on, Yu, this is your wedding, you can’t be alone.”</p><p class="p1">“You and Mark are here,” he points out, before twisting an unintended knife in. “You didn’t have yours with you.”</p><p class="p1">Your nuptials occurred in similar circumstances, done in an effort to prevent one half of each couple from being taken to places they could not fathom going. But Yuta has to recognize the stark line that divides the two scenarios. In their case, though the time has been short, Yuta and Seulgi have already been dating, they’ve shared reciprocated feelings for each other. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say a marriage would’ve happened in the future. And in your case, well, none of that was the truth.</p><p class="p1">“My wedding was different and you know it,” you mumble.</p><p class="p1">As if the universe has set out to make your life the funniest joke ever, there’s a second slam of the door opening, and an urgent cry that peals out into your house, “Y/n!”</p><p class="p1">There’s a mass of bodies blocking your view of the entryway but you know that silvery voice. You respond with the same urgency, “Jae! Jae, I’m here!”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s <em>Are you sure about that? </em>is lost into the airspace of the area you leave behind in your haste, pushing past people with abandon to get back to the door. Jaehyun is right there by your shoe rack, wearing a pink shirt you’d made for an old Flag Day gift, a tiny burst of red, embroidered hearts right over where his real heart resides. There’s no moment of hesitation, no consideration of what you should do, you take a running step and launch yourself right into Jaehyun’s open arms. He catches your waist, bringing you right off the ground as you burrow your face into his broad shoulder.</p><p class="p1">Your feet knock against his shins as he lifts you up even further, holds you even closer, and says, “I saw that your bedroom light was finally back on and… I… I came right away.” Thank god, he’s still dumb enough to go by the beck and call of the bedside lamp in your room, which Mark probably just turned on.</p><p class="p1">Fingers digging into his shoulder blade so that you can convince your mind he's here in your house with you, you let the full tidal wave of fear from earlier consume you, “You weren’t there at the game, I, I thought something happened to you, Jae. I thought they’d taken you.”</p><p class="p1">"Dad and I fought, bad, so I didn't go," he whispers into your hair, clutching you to himself even tighter, "I locked myself in my room and waited for you to come home."</p><p class="p1">“I came home,” you murmur against his shirt, now bowled over by immense relief, “I'm here.”</p><p class="p1">You’d done just as he asked.</p><p class="p1">“If we want to make this quick, we must begin as soon as possible,” Jungwoo beckons.</p><p class="p1">The people in the house start to arrange themselves on the floor to watch the ceremony proceed, and you disentangle yourself from the embrace, leaving Jaehyun behind. You walk over to your sink first, where there’s a bunch of miniature red roses in one of the many vases on your windowsill, and you snip off two buds. You join your parents to sit at the front, to be there in a place of encouragement for your two friends. With precise caution, you take an errant pin and affix a rose to Yuta’s stained, bloody undershirt. And as you drape Seulgi in the most sympathetic expression you can muster, you twist the stem of the second rose into her ponytail band.</p><p class="p1">You step back to allow Jungwoo to begin, “As you will not be able to hold a blossom ceremony, first, you will need to sign the marriage contract.”</p><p class="p1">This is proof enough that an archaic tradition shouldn’t matter. You’d learned from your parents that they’d forgone their own ceremony - but seeing it unfold now before you, with a couple you know loves each other, drives the deciding stake into your worldview. Yuta looks proud to sign his name first, his reliable block handwriting spelling out <b>Yuta Nakamoto</b> before he passes the paper to the woman by his side. You can’t help but feel for Seulgi, catching the way she can’t decide if she wants to smile or weep, torn between devastation and elation. The former takes over as she signs her name, paper splattering with tears over the name she shares with her father and brother, <em>Seulgi Oh</em>.</p><p class="p1">Jungwoo then pricks each of their hands to add blood to the paper for the bloodline record. Seulgi winces when her skin is pierced, fingers flexing over Yuta’s hand, but he does not even blink when it’s his turn, the pain dulled out by the bullet wound on his arm. Satisfied with the completion of that requirement, Jungwoo continues the proper order of the ceremony, “If you have any vows you wish to say to each other, you may say them now.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta is regal and contemplative as he takes his turn first, ice prince demeanor melting away as he gives his most earnest confession, “This is perhaps the worst possible circumstance a marriage could be entered into, but I can’t find myself caring. I haven’t cared about a lot of things I used to in the time before I knew you. I think that’s what true love is, no? Finding someone that makes it feel like not a single earthly dilemma could ever hold importance again? I’d break down historical prejudice for you any day, Slug. That’s how much I love you.”</p><p class="p1">Her delighted gasp despite her misery clues you into the fact that this is the first time the phrase has been exchanged in their relationship. You’re quickly becoming a sappy mess as you watch the pair of them. It’s true to form that Yuta has spun one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard on his wife’s behalf, and though it doesn’t matter in principle, you wonder how Seulgi’s going to match it.</p><p class="p1">She won’t give you an opportunity to find out, turning a shy smile to those in the house and murmuring, “I hope you all will understand me saving the true words of love I have in my heart for when my husband and I are in private.” There’s a buzz of understanding, before she turns to the man beside her, eyes glassy with the emotional weight of the day, and breathes, “But thank you. For having me, for loving me, no matter who either of us were.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even try to fight the impulse you have to turn your head, to glance over your shoulder to Jaehyun in the back, his amber eyes finding yours across the distance. It’s still true, you have a stellaria field’s worth of things you would’ve vowed to him were your marriage the real version. Heart-wrenching monologues, soulful ballads, a shared waltz of sentiment, a paper fortune of meaning, it all can be neatly fit into a golden thread of an amended, earlier promise. <em>For you.</em> <em>I came home for you. </em></p><p class="p1">“Congratulations, you are now married,” Jungwoo lauds the couple with a bow, and the entire room bursts into applause. With the uproar brings the third swing of your door open that night, you make a mental reminder to yourself to change the door code and the code to the electric fence.</p><p class="p1">“Yuta!” There’s a feminine shout from the doorway, “Yuta, we’re here, did we miss it?”</p><p class="p1">You crane your neck towards the door, and register the sight of a very red-faced Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto, taking their shoes off. Yuta bolts up in shock from his place on the couch, not expecting the appearance of his parents whatsoever. He glances down at Seulgi, keeping a hand on her shoulder, then responds, “Um, yes, but no.” He rubs an embarrassed hand against his ponytail, then confesses, “I thought you weren’t going to come when my call went to voicemail.”</p><p class="p1">Mrs. Nakamoto is a proper lady, always in a designer gown, always with a kind word to say, but she chooses then to punch her husband on the arm and grumble, “Your idiot father didn’t get to the phone on time. Of course we wouldn’t miss my baby’s wedding.”</p><p class="p1">You freeze as your friend tenses up in confusion above you, “Wait. You’re just late because you’re always late?”</p><p class="p1">“Well, you don’t have to rub it in my face like that,” Mrs. Nakamoto scoffs.</p><p class="p1">“No, I’m not, I’m just,” Yuta fumbles, trying to comprehend what she’s saying. “I thought you would be mad that I was marrying someone… not from here.”</p><p class="p1">There’s the plain truth of it all, he’s worried they would judge him for marrying someone from Elyxion, a worthwhile fear to hold in this day and age. The couple glances between each other, then Mr. Nakamoto turns to his son and asks, “Why would that bother us?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta lets out a short laugh, shocked that the interaction is going this way, and clarifies, “You’re in the Neozone military, isn’t it practically required?”</p><p class="p1">He has loads of proof to fall back on in defense of accusation - two of his best friends’ fathers have walked that belief path for the entire time you’ve known them. Yet here Lt. General Nakamoto is, unbiased and open, and even better, not across the border like the rest of his compatriots. “Being a bigot is not a requirement,” he solemnly preaches, making a stand for his moral code in front of the entire house. Then, his face softens in excitement, “Now please, stop stalling and let your mother meet your lovely wife.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s face breaks into the epitome of purity, handsome grin lighting up the entire room, and he gestures his parents over to meet Seulgi.</p><p class="p1">This day has given you emotional whiplash to the max. It’s past one in the morning but here you are, snapping photos and pulling out all the beers in your fridge, plus the wine in your cooler, to offer up in celebration to everyone who’s gathered. It’s not quite a party, the space is still bogged down with the understanding this is only happening because Seulgi’s family was wrongfully taken for crimes they didn’t commit. But you choose to indulge in the moment of reprieve, to kick back, unnoticed, on a corner of the kitchen floor and drink another beer in honor of your friends.</p><p class="p1">You’re picking at the label once again - keeping yourself occupied so you won’t fall asleep and plunge into the nightmare world you’re sure awaits you - when you feel someone sit on the floor next to you. They snatch the bottle out of your hand, swig a healthy amount out of it, then sigh. You lean your head right onto Mark’s shoulder, able to recognize even his breathing, and he hums, “Auntie K already passed out and I want to sleep with Mom. But you already have people sleeping on the couch and in your guest bedroom.”</p><p class="p1">You recognize his unspoken question and acquiesce to his request without a problem, “Don’t worry, I’ll go stay at Jae’s or something.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay,” Mark’s shoulders drop in relief, before he whispers, “I love you.”</p><p class="p1">You press the petal of a kiss against his cheek and murmur in return, “Love you more.”</p><p class="p1">You watch him make his way back up the stairs, into the cozy cocoon of safety with his lone remaining parent, sad that it’s one swapped for another instead of the reunion he deserves. As soon as he’s tucked away inside, you slip on your sneakers and make a quiet exit from your home, shivering in the October night’s air as you jog across the plaza to the house on the other side of the fountain. The glass storm door is the only thing that’s closed, so you carefully let yourself in, trying not to make a sound in order not to startle who’s inside. As you’re taking your shoes off on the cheerful welcome mat, you hear a conversation already going on.</p><p class="p1">“It’s a funny little thing, your flower. You know, I’ve been with my wife since we were freshmen in college, and from that moment on, I did not care whether or not I ever saw it bloom.”</p><p class="p1">Though you can’t quite pinpoint the first voice, the second is clearly Jaehyun’s, “You didn’t?”</p><p class="p1">“No, because I knew that the tradeoff of leaving her for a <em>what if</em> would not be worth it.”</p><p class="p1">You hide yourself in his closed off front alcove to eavesdrop, to hear what he has to say about Mimi now. An un-blossomed flower can only be reference to her, so you lean a heavy side into the wall and listen in with a dull acceptance, “I used to think that, really, I did. But the more days that pass, the more I feel like I need to see it. I’m falling apart over here.”</p><p class="p1">A motherly voice enters the foray, and you’re trying to pinpoint which of the Exordium folks he has to be talking to. “My husband and I had many conversations about this to make sure we were on the same page about what we wanted going forward. So why don’t you just ask her?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun blows out a deep sigh, thinking for a second before responding, “I honestly am not sure if she gives a shit — sorry —I am not sure she cares that my flower hasn’t blossomed.” Odd, considering Doyoung said Mimi cried her little eyes out when their flowers didn’t blossom.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, son. Sweet pea, she’s a tough one,” your father says, note of fondness audible in his voice as he talks about <em>you.</em> You’re sure your foot accidentally crashing into the shoe rack in your surprise would give you away, but they continue on, undeterred, your mother finishing her husband’s sentence, “She was hard on us when she found out about everything we told you today, rightfully so. But it’s only because her heart is so big, it doesn’t like to feel less than it should.”</p><p class="p1">You have to reveal yourself, you can’t stand here and let them discuss you like this anymore. You stomp over to the kitchen, not bothering to knock on the wall or announce yourself in any other way, only biting out a loud, “Can you please stop getting in my business?”</p><p class="p1">Your parents and Jaehyun all flinch where they’re standing by the stove, chatting like they’re old friends. While you didn’t think you were mad before, you find yourself at a heightened level of fury you’ve not quite reached before. How dare he, how dare he tell the story of you to your parents? How dare he tell them about your flower coming into bloom, when you hadn’t even broached that subject yet. He’s going to tell them the twisted version of the tale, make himself look like the hero, and clearly, paint you as the villain.</p><p class="p1">“Sweet pea,” your father tries to reason with you in a sweet voice, “he wasn’t getting in your business. We were quite nervous that you were gone today, so we spent it together, talking about what’s been happening, like a father-in-law and son-in-law should.”</p><p class="p1">You see red.</p><p class="p1">“He’s not your real son-in-law!” you cry, stalking over so you can get right in Jaehyun’s space, to shove an angry finger right in his face. “Are you. Are you? Are you going to look my dad in the eye and tell him you’ve actually had a girlfriend this whole time? Go ahead, do it.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun blanches, face going completely devoid in color, even whiter when he sees the displeased clench of your father’s jaw. He starts to stutter, surely coming up with an excuse, “I—,”</p><p class="p1">You can’t let him get away with it this time. If no one believes you about what’s transpired between you two, that’s fine, but you at least need to tell your parents the truth. You turn to your father, and adopt a heavily sarcastic tone, “Yes, Dad, Jaehyun has been dating the same girl for two years now, since the week I disappeared, which is a fun little tidbit you should also know!” You’re a blustering hailstorm of false excitement and vitriol as you expose every gritty detail, “His blossom ceremony with her failed, but he continued to date her anyways, and while he was dating her, volunteered to marry me for god knows what possible reason. So no, he’s not your real son-in-law.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a heinous moment of silence, where your father is knowingly contemplating that verbal onslaught, then Jaehyun bursts out, “Oh my god, can you stop being such an idiot and shut up for a second! I did it all for you!”</p><p class="p1">You scoff, undeterred by his lame effort to convince you, “Explain it to me, then. Explain to me how all of that shittiness was an act of service on my behalf.” You fix him with a cruel stare and warn him, “And be kind enough to not lie, I have witnesses this time.” The only, and you mean only, reason he was ever able to convince you of his erstwhile feelings, is because you’d been stupid enough to get caught with him alone. Never again.</p><p class="p1">He runs an errant hand through his hair, sending it everywhere in haphazard brilliance, and his tone goes melty, “I told you already, I bought that ring for you to give you that Christmas.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re right,” you concede, catching him off guard when you turn the contempt back on, “I don’t give a shit about things you’ve bought for me.”</p><p class="p1">“Please, let me finish!” He looks desperately to your parents for some help, and you feel your mother’s soft hand on your shoulder, urging you to listen. You cross your arms over your chest, and raise your eyebrow, daring him to try you. “I had the ring already by Changmin’s blossom ceremony, and that night I was convinced that I couldn’t wait until Christmas, I wanted to give it to you the next day. And then I saw you kissing John!”</p><p class="p1">You feel the prick of heat against your neck, and your hand darts to soothe the skin there. You already knew he saw you, but you didn’t know it affected him in this way. Your lips purse, but an ounce of your contempt washes away as you reveal, “I kissed John to see if I liked him as much as I liked you.”</p><p class="p1">You wanted to know if one heart could erase another, and luckily (ironically) for you, it hadn’t.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun clams up with your blunt truth, a rosette of color returning to his cheeks, but then he exclaims, “How the fuck was I supposed to know that!” After another hand through his hair, his bangs stand up everywhere, and he looks so despondent when he explains, “Mimi and her family came to me the next day. She told everyone she asked me out but Dad agreed that I’d date her, like it was some kind of business transaction between our families. I thought you wanted to be with John, and I wanted you to be happy, so what else could I do but go along with it?”</p><p class="p1">This is direct proof that he’s not lying to your face right now. You already have the background knowledge that Regent Jung and Mimi’s father had played a hand in their relationship. But you still can’t understand why he’d willingly gone through with it, considering he’s just told you he’d apparently bought a ring for you at that time.</p><p class="p1">“If you liked me that much, say no?” you deadpan, the choice obvious to you.</p><p class="p1">“Come on, y/n, don’t be purposefully stupid,” he groans, not as a particular insult, but to get you to understand. “Do you think I could say no to their relationship arrangement? Do you really think they would let me say no to that, even after I made myself sick crying every day when you were <em>kidnapped?</em> If they weren’t letting me off the hook then, they never would.” No, no, the answer is no, if Regent Jung could threaten your life without a care, you know exactly what kind of iron fist he ruled his family with.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun lets out a forlorn sigh, hands fidgeting against the hem of his shirt, and his words pick up in pace, like he doesn’t quite want you to hear what he’s saying, “Then everybody was talking about who the boy from home was, and all I could think about was you kissing John at the party, or Yuta never leaving your house, or how you and Mark were literally inseparable.”</p><p class="p1">If you thought the fire of your anger had cooled you were dead wrong. You’re consumed with a white-hot rage that licks at every one of your scars from that week, physical or otherwise, and you can’t help but raise your voice, “Oh, you’re blaming this on me, huh?! Because of words I used to comfort a dying kid?!”</p><p class="p1">He takes a painful, full body wince at his gaffe. Your words to Jeno have been dissected under a national microscope, have placed you under the crushing wheel of the local rumor mill for years now. The least he could’ve done was give you the benefit of the doubt.</p><p class="p1">But in a surprising turn, Jaehyun takes the full brunt of the blame, dropping his head as he admits, “No. I’m blaming it on me for sitting there and not saying a word to you. For thinking it was noble to give you space, to cheer you on as you went on dates with my best friends, all because I wanted you to be normal again, to be the old you that I liked so much. It fucking killed me to keep my mouth shut, but I did.”</p><p class="p1">This is true as well, you can’t even count the number of times he’d ribbed you with a smile, teased you with a too cheery, <em>there’s the old y/n again.</em> But you’d thought it was all in an effort to erase your pain for his benefit - to no longer feel awkward and uncomfortable around you.</p><p class="p1">“When you gave me that needlepoint and told me that you wrote to Mark just like I called him, I couldn’t do that anymore. It was over for me, you were it. It was you, and no one else, like it always had been,” Jaehyun solemnly swears, burgeoning strands of affection starting to shine through in his words. <em>Me and her, and nobody else. </em>The needle is starting to slip between the crack hewn into you two, one stitch fixing the rip in your heart. That night, for you, too, it was him and no one else.</p><p class="p1">His words get choked in his mouth, weighed down with emotion as he recalls what happened next, “I don’t know how Dad found me that morning, the guard must’ve let him walk right in. But he—,”</p><p class="p1">You fill in the blank for him, “Threatened you.”</p><p class="p1">“You knew?” he gasps, the two syllables cracking over a massive peak of hurt.</p><p class="p1">“I just saw the footage,” you bite out, back on the defensive. “Including what he said about the kid.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s eyes flutter closed, amber glow fading into a sunset of pale skin, and he curses lowly, “Shit.” He presses his hand into his face to alleviate his building stress, muffling his further explanation, “He had me under round the clock watch, there were security cameras in both my homes, I had a guard by my side always — not John, someone who would tell Dad if we talked.” </p><p class="p1">He opens his eyes, glowy fire of his gaze burning right through you as he earnestly affirms, “I would never, ever use Jeno against you, you know that. So, I thought the path of least resistance would be to give you the cold shoulder. I already knew you hated me for leaving after that night, so I figured what was a little more, if it kept you out of danger?” It’s clear he regrets his behavior, he can barely get a word out without it cracking further, “When you left, it was the worst, greatest feeling ever, because you were gone, but you were safe.”</p><p class="p1">It’s your turn to cascade your eyelids shut, to think of the deeply personal pain he’d put you through in the time after his birthday party. All those days when you’d felt gaslit by him, like you were the only one who remembered every lovely thing you’d said and did, like you were the only person in the relationship to ever view the other as more than a friend. Thinking of his inadvertent fulfillment of his father’s demand, your tortured heart caving under the pressure brought about after that dinner at Sun &amp; Moon.</p><p class="p1">He has to know that it was more than just a cold shoulder to you. You can’t hide the harsh tremor in your tone as you confess, “You hurt me so, so bad that day. I thought you were moving, I thought that was it for us.”</p><p class="p1">It’s not complete up here without him, without you, without both of you.</p><p class="p1">But you’re equal partners here in this magma of emotional wreckage. He sounds the most distraught you’ve ever heard him be when he tells you, “As a reward for my compliance, Dad got rid of every security measure once you were gone, even let me continue to live in this house. Felt like a taunt because I was still alone, our friend group was still broken up, and a house on our hill still ended up empty. Then, my blossom ceremony didn’t work, which earned me nothing but hope and another reminder from Dad that I needed to continue to date her for our family’s well-being.” His hand curls into a fist, the gesture shooting a spark of phantom sensation through your healed injury as he whispers forlornly, “You were gone, then you weren’t, then you were married, then you weren’t. It went right back to the old days, when it was you, you, you and nothing else.”</p><p class="p1">Your head is spinning, this is everything you’ve ever wanted to hear from him, but it can’t get past the double lined lead walls of defense you’ve erected after so many years of pain. He’s talking and talking but your heart can’t accept it, “I went to Baekhyun’s fan sign because he reminded me of you, watered your flowers because they meant so much to you, volunteered to marry you because I’ve always wanted to.”</p><p class="p1">Breath catches in your throat in a delicate choke at his plain confession, in an echo of the time you told him the same. You keep your mouth shut as he barrels forward, determined to finish before you stop him, “I’ve already told you that I kept it a secret from Mimi so she would not tell her father, so he would not tell mine. But I could not bring myself to say anything to you, because I thought you were in love with Kyungsoo.”</p><p class="p1">You know for sure that you’re not. You’re not, you’re not, you’re not. If Jaehyun takes anything from this conversation, if you part ways and never see him again after this, he has to know that you’re not in love with Kyungsoo.</p><p class="p1">“I’m not—,”</p><p class="p1">He’s plainly suffering as he cuts you off, devastated whisper barely making its way from his chest, “Your stellaria blossomed for <em>me</em>, yet you wanted to pretend it never happened so you could be with him. I went along with it, because <em>I wanted you to be happy.</em>”</p><p class="p1">You have no idea what your play is here. You know you’re supposed to tell him that you’d wanted to pretend with Kyungsoo because you thought he was still with Mimi, but you don’t know what sort of repercussions will come about from that. The safe thing to do is retreat back to what affords you an ounce of power, what makes you feel an ounce less helpless around him.</p><p class="p1">That is to yell right in his face, “I never asked you to do any of that!”</p><p class="p1">You’re desperately in need of a fight, for him to have it out with you, to burrow back into the comfort of hating him, and he gives it to you, exploding with his pent-up animosity, “I wanted to! I would do it a fucking thousand times if I had to, because even though it ruined me, and apparently ruined you too, at least you did not die.”</p><p class="p1">Oh no, he can’t be doing this. No, <em>you</em> can’t be doing this, allowing yourself to feel this gratitude for him, knowing that he’s speaking the objective truth. It’s a manipulative last resort for him, a kind of awful killing blow only he can strike.But you know now, without a single doubt, that Jaehyun has done this all for you. He’d already watched you almost die on national television once. He’d never let you get that close again.</p><p class="p1">But you still can’t accept that from him, you can’t. You bare your teeth in a growl, “You are such a fucking asshole for never saying anything!”</p><p class="p1">“How could I! Please tell me how I could’ve said something!”</p><p class="p1">“You—,”</p><p class="p1">“Quiet!”</p><p class="p1">Your father’s voice detonates into the canyon of tension between you two, and you both follow exactly what he says. You’d forgotten your parents had been in the room for all of that, are watching the pair of you who are now flushed with agony, chests heaving with all that tamped down feeling. He reaches over for the timer on the oven and cranks it one full turn, then sternly addresses both of you, “I’ve set this for one minute. You let it run down and cool off, then talk through it, one by one, like the adults you are.”</p><p class="p1">Without another word, he scoops your mother up and leads her out of the house, leaving you there with Jaehyun as the timer begins its ominous ticking.</p><p class="p1">Y<span class="s1">ou’re sure you can make these sixty seconds feel like sixty years, the exact length of time you would need to spend a happily ever after with this man, the man of your dreams. You’re certain this is all the time you’ll get, that after those sixty seconds he’ll come to his senses and move away from this delusion he thinks he’s been living in. Each tick of the timer is a churning whirlpool of a heartbeat in your chest, aggravating in their attempts to get you to collapse. But you won’t fall to the floor in despair - this precious slip of time is wasting away, and you haven’t committed every bit of Jaehyun to memory yet. </span></p><p class="p1">The timer goes off, shrill sound erupting into the bereft space of the kitchen, and your lifetime with him is ground into dust.</p><p class="p1">Or so you think, until you hear Jaehyun’s gorgeous, immediate profession, “You are the only person I’ve ever loved.”</p><p class="p1">You’re so terrified by the first instance of that word slipping past his pretty lips that you revert to instinct, backing down against the table and muttering, “I don’t believe you.”</p><p class="p1">He takes a step towards you and you take one backwards, legs knocking into a chair as you try to keep your distance. But he doesn’t pick up on your fear, pleading when he senses it as anger, “Please don’t make this another fight. I love you, y/n, I love <em>you</em>. You’re my true love, the only person I’ve ever loved.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t believe you, Jae! How could I?!” you exclaim, frothing with anxiety at his heap of affection upon you. You’ve practiced this day in and day out, denying his feelings for you. This is just another instance of that. </p><p class="p1">Jaehyun doesn’t argue back, knowing full well what he’s convinced you of before. He keeps his mouth closed, and his hand slips into the pocket of his sweatpants to pull out his wallet. He’s the kind of boy who’d keep a photo of you in his wallet just because, but you’d never dreamed that he’d be the kind of boy who’d keep it in there for all these years. It’s the picture alright, you can spot your baby faces on the glossy paper when he pulls it from the slot for dollar bills. But there’s a border of something around the edges you don’t recall.</p><p class="p1">He looks away in embarrassment as he hands it over to you, and you feel a slip of cotton against the back of the photo instead of the smooth touch of film. You turn it over in your hands, and when you see what he’s handed you, you lose all capacity for coherent thought, “What is this?”</p><p class="p1">His lip quirks in a shy smile, cheeks now blending into the pink of shirt as he softly explains, “I lost that bet, remember? I had to sew you something, so I asked your mom for help. Your dad told the story of how you came to me, and she taught me how to sew.” </p><p class="p1">He’s got the shot of you as teens glued onto a rectangle of white cotton, extending out on the sides in a makeshift fabric picture frame, which is covered in very, very, very rough stitching, like the skills ten year old you just started out with. He finally dares to approach again, overwhelming essence of him cascading right into you. His fingers reach out to brush past yours, towards one brown box with a roof sewn in the upper right corner, and a matching one in the lower left, “Those our our houses, here on the hill.” There’s a tuft of greenery by the bottom house, pricked with tiny white x’s, and by the top, five petals of golden yellow. “Plus your stellaria, and my honeysuckle.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun sat down and learned how to sew from your mother, all for you.</p><p class="p1">He’s answered so much for you tonight, but there’s one question still itching at you that slips out, “How did you know?” He’d never admitted to looking up the identity of his seed up before, but he’d confidently told you about the honeysuckle that night, before he’d ever seen it bloom.</p><p class="p1">“I never cared what my seed was, never cared about a damn blossom ceremony, until the night of Changmin’s,” he states plainly, and though you can guess what is about to follow, you need to hear it from his own mouth. “I wanted to search mine up in the seed directory, because of you.”</p><p class="p1">If he’s telling the truth without hesitation now, so should you, “I looked mine up that night, because of you.”</p><p class="p1">At your matching motivations, Jaehyun can’t help the giddy grin that he allows onto his face. It doesn’t feel like you’re quite out of the woods yet. The burgeoning happiness is prodding you along, daring you to allow yourself to relish in it, but you’re not convinced, not yet. You hide it as best you can as he turns around to the window by his sink. There’s rustling as he moves some picture frames and knickknacks aside, before he turns back around and places a glass goblet on the counter beside him. An autumn storm of emotion crashes into his gaze, all the turmoil and delight that has come about as a result of the tiny particle you know is laid inside.</p><p class="p1">He tells you what it is anyways, “This is it. Honeysuckle.”</p><p class="p1">Honeysuckle, the flower of devoted affection.</p><p class="p1">Recognizing the crystal vases the Ministry gives out for official ceremonies, you are prepared to offer him the first bad joke of the conversation, to rib at him like the old you would and say something like <em>sucks to suck, we always knew one of our friends would end up with a failed ceremony!</em>But Jaehyun douses you in such an expectant glance you know this is not the time to joke, not with what that glance is communicating.</p><p class="p1">“You—,” you falter, denial crushing its way up into your throat. “You can’t ask me to do this.”</p><p class="p1">He shakes his head, voice making its way out in a delicately careful statement, “I’m not asking you to. It’s up to you.”</p><p class="p1">He’s leaving the choice in your hands, if you want to seek out the confirmation of his heart or deny you both the chance to field the possibility. The safe choice is to back away, to walk out of his house in an effort of self-preservation. But you have to remind yourself that you trust him, that it is not in his innate nature to lie about something like this. It is because you trust him that you decide to put his needlepoint down on the table and walk right up to the counter beside him. You reach past his torso, pluck an empty glass from the drying rack, and fill it with tap water. There are no frills, no pompous pretenses, no official proceedings necessary. The once ruined fingers of your left hand heft the glass within your grasp, and then you pour the water over the soil.</p><p class="p1">It only takes a second, the eternal length of your twin heartbeats, before you see it, the brilliant sun emerging from the horizon in the world’s most beautiful sunrise. The five gold petals of the honeysuckle come into view, sitting proudly where you’d just poured the clear water.</p><p class="p1">“I told you,” he murmurs, voice lost in the beautiful dreamland of you. “You’re my true love.”</p><p class="p1">Prodded into sheer and overwhelming joy, like you’re the flower that’s just peeked up from the soil, you confess it for the first time to the bloom of a honeysuckle, “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s disbelieving, shy, shocked, “What?” could fuel a lifetime of tender daydreams.</p><p class="p1">“I love you,” you repeat, letting out your own stunned giggle, before you turn to gaze up to him, up to the boy from home that loves you. “I’m stupidly in love with you.”</p><p class="p1">As your reward for finally accepting your heart’s desires, you’re treated to the image of his face flooding with sweet satisfaction, eyes trembling closed as he presses his weight into the counter. “Oh, thank god,” he gasps in relief, and when he meets your stare once again, he doesn’t hold anything back, professing, “I’ve loved you for so long. For so fucking long.”</p><p class="p1">You have, too.</p><p class="p1">You’re subconsciously urged into motion, not towards him but back to the door, legs taking a life of their own as you move to hurry. There’s something you need to get for him right now, an image he deserves to see within the walls of his home.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, w-where are you going?” he calls after you, afraid that you’re rushing to leave him.</p><p class="p1">You smile from ear to ear, no reason for him or you to be worried about the other anymore, and reassure him, “I’ll be right back, I promise.”</p><p class="p1">Without bothering to put your shoes on, you sprint out the door of his house and straight back to yours, careful not to slam the door open when you realize it’s well past two in the morning, and all the stragglers inside must be dead asleep. Your parents are still awake, though, both of them jolting up from the dining table when they see you’ve returned. Unsure if they want to broach the subject after the carnage they just witnessed, your father tentatively approaches it with concern, “Are you okay, sweet pea?”</p><p class="p1">You breeze past his query in your haste to retrieve your intended object and get back to Jaehyun, waving a hand and answering, “Yeah, good. Great, even.”</p><p class="p1">They continue to eye you with worry as you go rummaging through one of your cabinets, finding what you want and immediately turning to leave without saying anything further to them.Like a crazy person, you go running and leaping across the fountain, wasting no time to burst through his door in an inferno of amore, hair fluttering around your shoulders.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is still in the same spot you left him in, unable to move in your time away, paralyzed until you’ve returned back to him. Unveiling what’s tucked behind your back, you reveal in a flourish what you’d been so compelled to retrieve from your house - one lone, blue mug. With a flush of adoring pride, you walk over to where he’s standing and carefully place the ceramic container next to the crystal one. Then, for the very, very first time, you get to see your blossomed flowers side by side.</p><p class="p1">You’d whispered the name <em>Jaehyun</em> once, when forced in your most devastating moment to recall the person who made you happiest in the world. It’d seemed like a lie in the years that followed, his wretched denial of your connection enough to conclude that you had made everything up in your head. But now, as you stare down at the lively little stellaria buds, the flowers of your home here on the hill, and the stunning honeysuckle that matches his golden eyes, you are sure that he is the love of your life.</p><p class="p1">“There,” you murmur, fingers dancing over the luscious petals. He’s stitched his kind heart fully upon the beautiful blossom of yours, the two of you are sewn together for an unbroken lifetime. “You’re my true love. And I’m yours.”</p><p class="p1">And what do you do once you’ve found your true love? You have to kiss him, of course.</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">But you’re suddenly nervous again. You’ve already spoken the words out loud, but </span> <span class="s3">how are you to imbue every movement with nothing but the words <em>I </em>and <em>love</em> and <em>you</em>? That is all you want him to be assured of. You glance up to him, to watch what he does and follow his lead, and you see the crowning climax of the lovelorn saga of the two of you. </span></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Jaehyun grins, a tiny, stunning thing, and when he blinks, a crystalline tear drips down his cheek. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">You reach for him right away, and it’s the most instantaneous, gratifying sensation, kissing him once more, after all this awful time has passed. Between his luscious mouth melding onto yours, and the feel of his curly hair under your fingers, you are sure you were born to kiss Jaehyun, the synchrony of your motion innate and effortless as he gathers you into his arms. </span> <span class="s4">His lips continue to move upon yours, tentative but fearless, tenderly devoted but passionate. It’s a flurry of emotions, heady and strange and questionable, but it’s alright, because you have the answer to all of it in front of you. </span></p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Losing track of the time you simply stand there and just kiss, over and over and over as if you both are utterly insatiable, you stand up on your tiptoes to encircle your arms around his neck, holding him to you like you’re withering away and he’s your only chance of survival. His hands clutch at your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, and when you sigh against his lips in unbridled delight, he takes the sly, cheeky moment to brush his tongue against yours. He rushes to bite at your bottom lip, and you hasten to return the favor against his top one, you can’t get enough of him. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">You’ve somehow walked back into the proximity of his dining room table, and he presses you to sit down on it, dipping his head so his lips can press against the midline of your jaw. <em>Oh</em>. You don’t know how Jaehyun’s able to be in every apex of your orbit all at once, but he’s managing just fine. His lips sow a flower field all over you, from the lush spot right behind your left ear, down to the rolling hill of your protruding clavicle, up to the elegant column of your neck. He even takes careful action to push away the collar of your borrowed jersey, arcing his torso over yours to press a sunburst of a kiss against the peek of your scar on your right shoulder. You can’t do anything but sit there, your breath coming in uncontrolled gasps, and grasp at his shirt, waiting for your chance to return his attention. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">His hand comes up from yours to hold your cheek, and you press your face into his warmth as closely as you can, fingers crossing upon his from the other side. At the sensation of your touch, Jaehyun’s eyes flutter open and his mouth introduces a cratering space away from yours. You’re prepared to complain, to indulge in a whine and insist he continue to kiss you like you deserve, but he’s showing off a different intended desire. His nose wrinkles with ultimate fondness when he sees your pout, unable to stop smiling for even a second when in your presence. His hand twists off of your cheek to grasp your fingers fully within his, a distinct reminder that you need to have a certain coil of gold placed upon that hand by the time the sun rises in the morning. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">In a recall to the exact moment where he’d stolen your heart for an eternity, Jaehyun takes your hand, bare for the final time, and presses the breadth of your once ruined palm against his lips. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">A quivering droplet tumbles its way out of your eye, just as the diamond of another tear cascades out of his. </span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s3">Then, he kisses you once more, and you resolve to ingratiate every detail of what follows next into your consciousness.</span> <span class="s5"> The salty solace of your fallen tears batters against your mouth first, followed by the familiar tangy coolness of the peach beer you keep in your fridge, coupled with the happy dot of his nose on yours when he gets a bit too eager. These are fine, beautiful little memories for you to hold on to, but they are immaterial compared to the realization that ricochets right into your mind. </span> <span class="s3">There’s only one feeling that can perfectly describe being here with Jaehyun right now, nobody else, just you and him in the house on the hill. The feeling that soaks into your heart is purely the relief of coming home from the horrors of the world to the person you hold dearest. Your sweetest, truest love. </span></p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth, no longer allowing yourself to hold back in any way, “Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s3">He kisses you right on the apple of your cheek, on the honeyed pink halo of color there, once, twice, three times, four times, a kiss for each profession of love you’ve just given him.“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” he murmurs in return, before stepping back and holding out a hand, </span> <span class="s5">“Come on, then. Let’s go to our bed.”</span></p><p class="p1">And what do you do once you’ve found your true love? You have to go with him, of course.</p><p class="p1">So you do, you take Jaehyun’s hand, and you go.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>guys. just soak it in. i love u, and thank u for reading</p><p>(i have no patience whatsoever and decided to drop this chap early just to get y'alls reactions. MAKE EM GOOD. lol)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. dianthus caryophyllus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>His soft chuckle only adds to the legend of this beautiful day, “Now see? That’s why I wanted to marry you in the first place.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i finally updated the chapter count! i sat my ass down and divided up what's left, so we're getting there. still lots of plot to come as you can see ;)</p><p>a huge, huge, HUGE thank you to everyone who read/commented on the last chapter. i felt the love (hehe).</p><p> </p><p>dorado map - ibb.co/S5VfGDD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The sun looks particularly dazzling right now.</p><p class="p1">You suppose you’re viewing the panorama of the land through the lens of hyperbole, but is there truly anything more beautiful than Neozone in the fall? The grass is such a lush emerald, the leaves of the forest’s trees are taking their brilliant descent into crimson and gold, and you’ve never seen the sky a more sparkling blue. You swear if you go outside right now, passersby might find you literally chirping along with the songbirds that are rising.</p><p class="p1">“Soooo,” a familiar drawl curls into your ear, “was me waking up alone this morning planned?”</p><p class="p1">You peek over your shoulder, cheeks descending into the same brilliant red as the fall foliage when you see Jaehyun coming down the stairs in only his sweatpants. Everything about him is far too much at this moment, the artful muss of his honey hair, the exposed expanse of his bare torso, the very visible lilac field marked onto his left collarbone, the deepest pop of his sweet dimples. You have an instinctual urge to chastise him for not wearing a shirt, before you’re pushed back into bashfulness upon realizing that you’re the one wearing his sleep tee right now.</p><p class="p1">You couldn’t sleep, for a multitude of reasons, and he’d looked so cute in the clutches of slumber that you didn’t want to rouse him into consciousness. You’d slipped out of bed to have a warm cup of coffee and a piece of toast waiting for him, something you’ve waited to do for so long. But it is only now, after his sarcastic comment, that you realize the optics of what this might look like, especially considering your history. </p><p class="p1">“Ah. No, but I suppose it should’ve been, hm?” You take the opportunity to both reassure him and get one ounce of satisfaction by rubbing in the final bit of reciprocated hurt that you ever intend for him to feel. The shock of waking up alone that morning hadn’t been immediate - you’d been too hungover and frenzied to register it until it was way too late. But it won’t take much to imagine what sort of conclusions he’d leapt to when his eyes had fluttered open to an expanse of nothingness.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun winces as he flops onto the seat across from you at the table, “Ouch. I’m sorry about that, too.”</p><p class="p1">That should close the book on apologies for the erroneous actions of the past. You’re sorry, and he’s sorry, and you’re both choosing to live with honesty now. </p><p class="p1">You go the diplomatic route, only acknowledging his concession with an understanding head nod and then moving the hell on, “Anyways, couldn’t sleep. I uh, I guess I’ve always used your porch light as a nightlight. And that doesn’t work on this side of the fountain.”</p><p class="p1">You go with the simplest, most accurate reason for why you’d found yourself wide awake with the first peek of sunlight through Jaehyun’s bedroom window. There’s no reason to be embarrassed anymore, you’ve crossed every line possible. But the fact of the matter is that you’d been filled to the brim with glee at the notion that you were in Jaehyun’s bed with him. Cozied up into his strong side, hands intertwined across his torso, really, trying to sleep had been a foolish endeavor. But you can’t be that mushy with him this fast, he’d make fun of you for it without a doubt.</p><p class="p1">So, unbelievably shy in front of him even now, you push away a strand of hair from your face and hope that he believes what you’ve said. His eyes are obvious in the way they illuminate in joy when he catches the slip of gold twisted around your left ring finger. That’d been the other reason you’d gotten up early. A rip-roaring head full of love? Check. The desire to have a meal waiting for him like a silly little wife? Check. Wanting to present him with your commitment to his commitment? Check. While the toast was toasting, you'd run home to retrieve the ring from the depths of your bag. </p><p class="p1">Jaehyun stares at you over his coffee cup, enchanted, enamored, all of the above, and muses, “I’ll get you your own nightlight, Mrs. Jung.”</p><p class="p1">You’re such a damn fool. It hasn’t been long since you’d hated Mark for calling you that name, a name you thought was to be a taboo fantasy forever. Yet, the happiest gong of your heart still crashes in your chest.You’d feel comfortable telling him anything and everything from here on out, your trust of him is that immediate and innate. But you will never let him see how easily he can rile you up. He’ll lord it over you every day with silly affection.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t call me that,” you grumble as you try to suppress a smile, feeling the pure heat burn into your cheeks.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun puts down his cup of coffee to both ogle you and to let a lazy, knowing smirk cross his face. Mission already failed.</p><p class="p1">“Is that not what I’m supposed to call you now? We did do it all backwards, got married first and then had our flowers blossom, but you’re my wife either way.” Wife. You’re his wife. How did you even get here? He pushes back his hair, knowing you’re ogling him in return, and then leans all the way back in his chair as he questions, “Hmm, do you like babe? Baby? Honey? It’s gotta be something honey, don’t you think?”</p><p class="p1">Cue the blush. “You’re corny as fuck.”</p><p class="p1">He reaches his hand over the table, knowing exactly what he’s doing when he grabs yours and murmurs, “Nah, have to stick with y/n. It’s too pretty to use anything else.”</p><p class="p1">Literally, how did you get to this point? He’s too freaking cute.</p><p class="p1">“Shut up.”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t follow what you say, only shaking your arm like a petulant child and whining again, “Y/n, my loverrrrrrrrrr.”</p><p class="p1">“Shut up and eat your toast,”you instruct, unable to take any more of his saccharine sweetness. After you’ve given him a firm snap of his arm in return, he finally takes up obedience. He falls silent and picks up his toast with his free hand, making sure he keeps the other one firmly around yours. You contemplate your own bowl of cereal and hum, “You know, you’re going to have to tell me what you like for breakfast now. Gotta learn the new stuff.”</p><p class="p1">You’d purposefully blocked out so much about who he was over the past two years in the essence of preserving your emotional health, that all you have left are memories of the kind of boy he’d used to be. It’s a sad realization, but not one that can’t ultimately be remedied with some concerted effort.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun shrugs, like that isn’t a care to him in any way. “Not much about me has changed, I think you know that.”</p><p class="p1">“I do,” you admit, because despite it all, he’s still the same lion cub you’d met on this hill as a seventeen year old. To prove yourself to him, you think hard - to the last time you’d been to Bomb’s Away together, a day lost to the past by now. The only thing you can remember is him across from you in the booth, with a smudge of purple on the corner of his mouth. “Pancakes with blueberry syrup?”</p><p class="p1">His soft chuckle only adds to the legend of this beautiful day, “Now see? That’s why I wanted to marry you in the first place.”</p><p class="p1">“Jae, have you seen bee anyw—,”</p><p class="p1">At the sound of Mark’s surprise bellow ringing out from the front door, you and Jaehyun descend onto the same wavelength, snatching your hands out of the other’s at wicked speed. However, in your haste to hide the physical proof of your relationship, you completely forget the proud blooms serving as the centerpiece of the table. But there wouldn’t have been an action quick enough to take in an effort to conceal them, because by the time you blink again you’re watching Mark’s jaw drop to the depth of the Mariana Trench.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s come to a screeching halt in the middle of the entryway, able to see the duo of cheerful flowers even across the room. His bizarre and sudden stop causes the person barging in behind him to go crashing right into his still frame. Yuta holds his nose from where it’s smacked into Mark’s skull and blusters, “Why the hell did you stop, dude— oh my god.”</p><p class="p1">The pair of them see each and every minute detail, from the obvious - your lack of pants and Jaehyun’s disdain for a shirt, the errant sweep of your hair and the lavender bruise on his chest; to the subtle - the reflection of the morning sun against the gold of your ring, the brush of the two glasses side by side in the center of it all.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” Mark gasps, mouth fumbling for any other phrase and failing. “Oh my <em>god</em>. You two?! That’s actually what this was?!”</p><p class="p1">You need a second, you never thought you’d get to this point. Sure, you were prepared to tell Mark the other day just what had happened on your house the night before Jaehyun’s birthday. But you’d never expected to be caught like this - in blatant and obvious love. Nor have you ever stopped to ponder in what way your best friend would react. You’re sure he’d had little to no clue the depth of atrocious feeling you’d held, but you don’t know if you should anticipate betrayal or anger as the first emotion out of him.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun takes his oldest friend to task first, no hint of embarrassment or remorse evident in his voice, “Yeah dude. You didn’t know?”</p><p class="p1">It’s surprising yet not, that he’s chosen to frame you as something obvious, something inevitable.</p><p class="p1">Mark stutters, piecing his minced thoughts together, “I mean, I… I had a feeling because of your letter….” He scratches his head, trying to make sense of how he’s arrived at this scene, first regarding Jaehyun with a furrowed brow, “but you were….” then shaking his head in your direction, totally confused, “and you…. I mean? What?” He drives his elbow backwards, causing Yuta to hunch over with the blow, and not at all surreptitiously whispers, “Psst, dude. Do I have any legroom to be mad right now? Like any?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s voice comes out strangled as he tries to recover from getting the wind knocked out of him, “No, I don’t think either of us do.” He composes himself to look between the pair of you with cool interest and ask, “This has been going on for a while?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s been privy to a lot of your personal torment, surely figuring out the reason for your misery now. He deserves the backstory, they both do. You brush a hand over the edge of Jaehyun’s vase and say, “Well, this, this really just happened yesterday.” However, you have to concede to the actual truth as well, “But yeah, it’s been… quite a while.”</p><p class="p1">“Since my birthday.”</p><p class="p1">Both of the men glance at Jaehyun after his surprise interjection. You really didn’t think he was going to go right there. Telling your friends you slept together without nuance, especially considering the context of your relationship then, is sort of a wild way to start this story off.</p><p class="p1">Even if Mark seems to have predicted that night had something to do with it, which he voices, “Well no wonder, I figured something happened after we saw that footage—,”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun corrects him right away, “Not that birthday.” It is your turn to join your friends in staring at him with puzzlement, because you can’t recall that sort of significant occurrence on any of his other celebrations. He wastes no time in further explaining, “My twentieth birthday, when you drove up just to celebrate with me.” Your emotions dam up in your throat when he lets out a low sigh and confesses, “Oh boy. I saw you outside of the restaurant in your Bats tee and I was a fucking goner."</p><p class="p1">“Wait, really?” you whisper, taken all the way aback by the revelation. You’d gone on that trip just for him - for John’s birthday too, on a technicality - but it had really been only for him.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun blushes a cherry red, and nods. “Yeah.”</p><p class="p1">You let out a disbelieving little giggle, left hand darting to cover your face as you try to reign in your gushing laughter. Is this your reward? For the preternatural level of suffering you were forced to go through? You’d never been the type of girl to view a man as your end all be all, but the world certainly feels one dash less terrible having the evidence now. That he’s loved you for as long as you’ve loved him. Because, you know, giving him the picture that night had been one of the first tugs of your heartstrings his way.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god dude,” Mark repeats to Yuta, like he’s had a life changing epiphany. “We were fucking blind!” He holds out his hands, gesturing to you two wildly, “Look at them! They’re sappy as shit! They’ve… they’ve always been this way!”</p><p class="p1">You really are unsure as to how you’ve concealed it for so long. You’ve been moony-eyed, starstruck idiots for years now, from getting caught under an unwanted mistletoe, to that fated party, to sharing a concrete step together amidst a field of blue. That concrete step. If the birthday party had been the opening notes of a song, sitting on the step of the Neozone Greenhouse with Jaehyun was the crescendo of the melody into a symphonic climax.</p><p class="p1">You reach out from the table and gently take Mark’s hand, tugging him close so he’ll catch the soft tone you use, “He um. He was who I was talking about to the kiddo.” A shaky exhale peals from your best friend’s mouth when he registers what you’re saying, and you say the next part both to him and your husband, “J ran into us together at Changmin’s blossom ceremony and I… I think he knew, you know?”</p><p class="p1">In a quest for the last ice cream cone he’d shared with his own best friend, Jeno had accidentally stumbled upon the cozy, cozy moment, an incident you never got the chance to yell at him for interrupting. He’d even indulged in a plethora of witty digs against you the next morning, astute in his observations of what had been happening at the party. It’s not that you think, you know that Jeno knew. He’d helped pick out the ring you’re wearing, whether or not Jaehyun actually knew how he felt back then. And true to his kind soul, Jeno had spared one beautiful portion of his last breaths to bolster your tremulous romantic feeling with his tender phrase, <em>I’m sure he does.</em></p><p class="p1">If Mark had any trepidation left at the notion of you and Jaehyun together, it’s lost now after you’ve mentioned Jeno. He squeezes your hand, and his tone comes out just as affectionate, “He always knew more than we thought, always kept us in line around you.” He turns back to ask Yuta, “What did he used to say, man?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh god, he used to get so mad if we even dared to act a drop foolish around you,” Yuta laughs, and though you’ve never heard this about Jeno before, it fits perfectly in your memory of him. “What was it again? I don’t quite remember.”</p><p class="p1">He and Mark think for a few seconds, brows furrowed, but Jaehyun is the one who holds the correct recollection of the teen. Dozing off into the memory of his beloved young friend, Jaehyun’s words drift off into heavenly dreamland as he recites, “<em>Yunho says I shouldn’t curse so you f-word a-words need to treat y/n better than right. She deserves to be happy.</em>” That was all it was ever about, being happy. You hope the kid’shappy, knowing now that you are happy. Jaehyun wipes a finger against his slick lower eyelid, pooled with tears, and sniffs, “Maybe I owe him an apology, too.”</p><p class="p1">He probably does, knowing how fiercely protective Jeno is about his family. If all of this had happened while he was still alive, you’re sure the boy would’ve gone on strike in protest of your treatment. But this is also Jaehyun, Jeno’s favorite out of all of Mark’s friends. Something tells you he wouldn’t have been able to be that mad for that long.</p><p class="p1">Mark, knowing his brother, and holding your heart, concedes first, “He knows.” He places his free hand on his best friend’s shoulder and clarifies with grave solemnity, “You don’t need to tell us the details of what you’re saying sorry for, but if you’re sorry, he knows.”</p><p class="p1">You take Jaehyun’s hand, as Yuta bends his head into yours, and the four of you sit in appreciative silence for the memory of Mark’s little brother. The kiddo’s been watching over you this whole time. This is the closest thing to confirmation you’ll get that angels exist, and one with a smiling strawberry on his shirt will forever be by your side.</p><p class="p1">Yuta shakes your shoulder, then jokes to break the moment, “Well, I am sorry to rain on your obvious morning after—,”</p><p class="p1">You and Jaehyun groan simultaneously, and then you mutter, “Jeez, dude, come on.”</p><p class="p1">“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Yuta apologizes, though he’s not sorry at all and clearly makes it known, “holy shit, does it feel good to tease y/n about this after this long.” You stick your middle finger up in his direction, earning you a peal of amused chuckles that suddenly dissipate into sober seriousness as he announces, “Anyways, John should be out of surgery soon. If we leave now, we’ll get there when they take him to his room.”</p><p class="p1">The wince that shakes your body comes from the very depth of your shredded heart. How selfish were you to allow yourself to forget about your other best friend?</p><p class="p1">Across from you, Jaehyun’s gone a queasy green, and Mark knocks his elbow into his side to try and keep the mood light, “No better reminder that you’re living in a lovesick bubble than the news about your shot-up friend, huh!”</p><p class="p1">“Trust me,” Jaehyun groans as he gets up from the table, rubbing a hand across his stressed out face. “I wish he was the one in the lovesick bubble right now.”</p><p class="p1">That’s a deep conviction all four of you share. You have no idea how you’ve come to this, to the point where you can’t savor the beautiful autumn morning with the boy you love and instead have to hurry to put sweatpants and a coat on so you can get to the hospital. The five of you should be out buying pumpkin donuts and rushing to get the last of the blueberry pickings instead of sitting in Yuta’s car in silence, unsure if any of you want to voice what you’re feeling right now. That there’s no guarantee that Johnny is even going to make it out of surgery safely.</p><p class="p1">In fact, it takes until the merge onto Heaven’s Highway for the turnoff to Neozone Community Hospital for the silence to shatter. Jaehyun, unable to stew in the silence brimming with what-ifs any longer, peers at Mark through the rearview mirror and asks, “How’s your mom?”</p><p class="p1">“Still sleeping,” he replies in a soft voice, watching the city roll by through the passenger side window. “I’m not ready to have that conversation when she wakes up again. We have so much to talk about. It’s really not going to be pretty.” Mrs. Lee has been in a grief-induced slumber since you’d returned back from the baseball stadium last night, and you don’t envy what you know lies ahead for Mark. You’re glad, of all things, that they will be able to have that conversation in the comfort and safety of your home.</p><p class="p1">Yuta blows out a low breath, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel, and then he turns to Mark in sympathy and jokes, “Well, we’ve got ten minutes until we’re forced to contemplate mortal reality again! Better get our nonsense topics out now.”</p><p class="p1">He flips the radio on to some rap song that shouldn’t be blaring in your ears this early in the morning, and Jaehyun’s hand settles warmly against your knee. Leaning your head into his shoulder, you’re about to tell Yuta that he should shave a design into his undercut when Mark blurts, “God, I am so single. How are all three of you married!”</p><p class="p1">You tickle at his neck through the headrest and tease, “It’s not like you looked!”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah dude, your crush on y/n wore off when you were still a kid,” Yuta points out, then raises his eyebrow through the mirror to the man beside you. “Some of us weren’t so lucky.”</p><p class="p1">As Jaehyun laughs, full bellied and entertained, Mark reaches his hand behind the seat to grab yours. He’s been your brother longer than he was ever the cute boy from the train station you had a teeny crush on, and he confirms that it was the same for him, “Oh shh. You know why it did.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun leans forward to slap his best friend on the arm and joke, “But I’m sure Seulgi knows some nice Elyxion girls we can set you up with, right Yu? Since you know, apparently, none of us stayed loyal to Neozone girls.”</p><p class="p1">That gets a hearty guffaw from all three of you as you recall the way John and Jaehyun bragged after their trip abroad to Europe. Highly ironic that the objects of affection they’d settled on, Seulgi for Yuta and you for the other two, both ended up being as far from Neozone girls as they could possibly get. If Mark decided it was time to venture into this part of his personal life, it would only make sense for him to break the mold and do the same. After all, that’s what his father did, too.</p><p class="p1">The first cheery sprigs of the Mark you know start to pop up when he shrugs with a grin and concedes, “Why the hell not?” He pauses for a second, laughing to himself, then tacks on, “But I think John will probably need someone first, considering he was in love with y/n as much as anyone was back in the day.”</p><p class="p1">You know he’s meant it to be funny, but his comment has sucked the air right out of the car. No better reminder.</p><p class="p1">“Yikes,” Jaehyun grimaces, hand finding yours as his tone goes quiet, “guess I’ll need to say sorry to him, too.”</p><p class="p1">His words taper off at the end of his sentence, in a manifestation of his hesitation. Jaehyun’s not concerned fully about what Johnny’s reaction will be when he finds out that his own best friend is the one that’s held your heart all these years. His unspoken fear rings loud and clear, he’s not sure if Johnny will even make it to the point where he can receive Jaehyun’s apology. You lift his hand in yours and press a kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger, knowing you can’t say anything to make it better. Whatever platitudes you have will only convey false hope.</p><p class="p1">Mark clears his throat, and decides to go for it, “You’ll be able to say sorry to him, dude. He’ll pull through. John is too loyal not to.”</p><p class="p1">There is no correlation between loyalty and mortality, but you’ll choose to believe there’s one for your own sake.</p><p class="p1">Yuta parks in the far, far back of the visitor’s parking garage, under the covering protection of a Range Rover and a soccer mom’s van. It’s already tragic enough that you’re coming here under these circumstances, so it does not help that you all have to raise your jacket hoods and keep to the parts of the garage that are blind zones for the security cameras. Yuta gestures for you to stay by the sliding doors as he goes in first, and your small trio loiters in nervousness as you await his return.He comes back a few minutes later, then nods his head to a steel door near the entrance, punching in a key code and then holding it open so you can slip inside to a concealed staircase.</p><p class="p1">“What was that all about?” Mark asks as you start to climb the tower of flights that looms above you.</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s solemn voice echoes off the concrete as he leads you, “We had him set up in a private room under a fake name. No reporters.”</p><p class="p1">Your foot snags on the next step you take, and Jaehyun catches your waist before you fall. Letting out a shaky exhale, you grab onto both the railing and his available hand to steady yourself as you ascend the private stairs to where your friend lies in wait.</p><p class="p1">“This seriously just keeps getting more depressing,” Mark mutters as Yuta finally comes to a halt outside the fifth door you’ve passed and punches in yet another code.</p><p class="p1">The door gives way to a deserted hallway, poorly lit, but thankfully devoid of people. Neozone Community Hospital isn’t anywhere close to the size of the facility downtown, but they had to have kept this private floor in case any sort of VIP happened to need it. Good thing they did. You think you’re alone up here, then you spot a young female doctor, blonde hair pinned up under her scrub cap, pacing outside of a room near the end of the corridor.</p><p class="p1">Yuta sticks up a hand to wave and shout, “Dr. Shon!”</p><p class="p1">Dr. Shon’s head darts up from where it’s been folded in concentration, and she offers your approaching group a polite smile. She shakes hands with Yuta and greets him, “Mr. Nakamoto, thanks for coming so quickly.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, thank you so much for being discreet about this,” Yuta returns, then can’t help the overwhelming anxiety to ask the question of the hour, “How’s he doing?”</p><p class="p1">Dr. Shon looks between the group of you, choosing her words carefully, “Surgery went… fine.” You feel your heart maroon in your throat as she lets out a groan of exhaustion, having had been in the operating room all night, and clarifies, “As fine as it could’ve gone. We have him in the private ICU room there right now.”</p><p class="p1">In total synchrony, all four of you whip your gaze to the door she’s gestured to, and you stand on your tiptoes to try and peer around Mark’s blonde head to see inside. First, you see the gift shop carnations left on the side table, then you spot a glimpse of the tiniest slip of auburn hair. Disbelieving of John’s status until you’ve seen this proof with your own eyes, you finally allow yourself to feel some relief, and you let out a heavy sigh, “Oh, thank god.”</p><p class="p1">She walks over to the door and puts up a set of x-rays to the lightbox that’s mounted on the wall. A pained reaction to the carnage escapes all of you at once when you see just how damaged your best friend had been in his defense of you. “The bullet shattered his sternum, narrowly missed his heart, and went straight through the upper left lobe of his lung,” Dr. Shon explains as she points out each shredded bone she’d repaired. She points out the nefarious slug of metal and continues, “It didn’t exit out through his back, so we had to dig it and the shrapnel out when we did our organ repair. He lost a lot of blood on your drive over, but we think he’ll be able to pull through.</p><p class="p1">“The next few weeks or so are the most critical for him, if we can get him awake and off the ventilator, then that will be the best sign he’ll make as close to a full recovery as possible. There are, of course, many possible complications that await him - diminished capacity for breathing, shrapnel pieces the x-ray might have missed, plus he’ll need extensive physical therapy.”</p><p class="p1">That’s fine, physical therapy is fine, you’ll set him up with the magician who managed to fix your obliterated hands. Please, please, let the only thing Johnny needs out of this be some physical therapy. You can’t tolerate any more horrors.</p><p class="p1">Dr. Shon fills in the gaps she knows you’re aching to confirm, “But I’m fairly confident in saying if he wakes up with no problem, he’ll make it. I think we’ll be able to get his scars healed up pretty nicely, too. So make sure you tell him that when he’s up, seems like the kind of thing he would want to know.”</p><p class="p1">The other boys chuckle, at the notion of this no-nonsense lifesaving doctor being unable to resist John’s ethereal beauty. But something else in her concluding statement has snagged your attention. You’re so caught up in the thought it renders you unable to contribute to the conversation, almost forcing you to miss her next question, “Do we need to prepare for the arrival of his family?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” Yuta confirms, stern and imposing with the severity of his tone. “We will only notify Mrs. Suh if he takes a turn for the worse and she needs to be here for the end. Understood?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s hand seizes around yours just as you reach to clutch at Mark’s arm. That cannot be a scenario you even dare to imagine. It’s just not happening. It’s not. You’ll allow Yuta to take over in pragmatism, because you will not contemplate that idea at all.</p><p class="p1">The doctor nods, unfazed by his request, “Absolutely, sir. I will keep you posted as much as we can.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” Jaehyun whispers, unable to keep his eyes off John. “Thank you so much.” He lets go of you to press right up against the doors with his buddies, murmuring, “John, why’d you always have to play the hero, huh?”</p><p class="p1">You’ll let them see their beloved friend first, you’ll take your quiet exit from the group to alleviate the nag that’s been bothering you for a few minutes now. You have to hurry, because Dr. Shon is almost to the elevator, so you raise your voice to stop her, “Wait!” She doesn’t press the call button, and turns around, so you feel comfortable enough to go on, “May I ask you something, Dr. Shon?”</p><p class="p1">You get the first hint of a smile from the other woman, and realize that she’s not that much older than you at all. “You may call me Wendy,” she offers politely, then voices the same thing you had thought, “I don’t think we’re that far apart in age.”</p><p class="p1">“Thanks, Wendy,” you accept her offering, then shut up when her pager goes off in a shrill tone. She checks it and silences it, but you feel obliged to back down, “Anyways, it’s a medical question, but I don’t want to hold you up.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay, my next surgery isn’t until the afternoon. Ask away.”</p><p class="p1">You almost wish she had blown you off. Now you feel awkward, exposed, perhaps even foolish for daring to ask her a question that will come off superficial in the wake of what she’s just done. But damn it, you suppose you have to try. You compose yourself and phrase it as neutrally as possible, “You said in there that you would be able to get Johnny’s scars healed up nicely. And I, I guess I was just wondering what would make a scar easy to heal versus not.”</p><p class="p1">Wendy hesitates herself, clearly picking up on the trepidation you haven’t been able to hide in your voice. You thank her silently for being diplomatic about her answer, “I mean, it depends on the skill of the doctor, the type of aftercare you get, and ultimately on the type of wound it is. Are you asking on behalf of Mr. Suh?”</p><p class="p1">Whew, here we go.</p><p class="p1">“No. For uh, for me.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve shocked her, which you can tell is a thing she’s not used to. Her mouth bobs open and closed in her attempt to gather a proper reaction, let alone an answer. You shove your hands deep into the pockets of Jaehyun’s coat, deeply inhaling the familiar scent of his embedded in the fabric, and force yourself not to panic.</p><p class="p1">Her eyes soften, and she beckons you forward, in the direction of a deserted exam room by the elevators, “Come in here, let me take a look.”</p><p class="p1">Now, the panic really starts to set in. You’ve purposefully shown only one person your scar before, all others who have seen it have done so by accident or circumstance. You really don’t think you can be this vulnerable with a stranger, but somehow your mouth isn’t able to form any words to stop her, your brain doesn’t stop you from climbing onto the exam table and taking off the jacket. Before your fingers can pull at the hem of Jaehyun’s sleep tee, Wendy’s hand stops you. Without preamble, she walks over to the area behind you, and she gently lifts up the smallest corner of the cotton to peek. A tear pricks into the corner of your eye, in gratitude for the way she’s treating you with care, but the cool rush of air hits your marred skin and that dissolves into grief and guilt. </p><p class="p1">“Oh,” she lets out an involuntary gasp.</p><p class="p1">“That bad, huh?” you quip in a soft voice, hoping it will lessen the stress in the room.</p><p class="p1">She doesn’t answer, and that alone is an answer.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun could wax beautiful poetic about it all he wants, call it a pretty reminder of your heart, whatever lovely words he’s inspired to murmur when he’s around you. But that won’t change the fact that perhaps maybe you would like to wear a backless dress to your wedding. And that perhaps maybe you wouldn’t like everyone talking about the ragged reminder of a boy’s death during that day.</p><p class="p1">Her fingers carefully graze over the bottom portion of your exposed back as she marvels, “I’ve never seen a simple slash wound heal this terribly. Not to belittle your pain, of course, but having seen the footage, this should’ve been an easy repair.”</p><p class="p1">You’re finally grateful for once that someone has seen the video of that awful week. You glance down to your hands, barely able to pluck out the spindly white strands of healed skin. How many times have you agonized over this - that every other scar on your body, on Kyungsoo’s too, had healed, except for the worst one of them all?</p><p class="p1">“Pretty much every other scar I had from that time faded completely, except for this,” you hum, hand rubbing across your back in phantom relief. “Tore all the skin off my legs, had surgeries on both hands, and there’s barely anything left.”</p><p class="p1">“Despite getting the best care, sometimes wounds are hard to understand,” she reassures you, smoothing your shirt back into place and coming around to your front to address you head on. “Things like air quality, chemical contamination, and even personal stress levels can arrest the proper healing of a scar. You did also have to wait a long time to get seen by a doctor then, correct?”</p><p class="p1">To be honest, you don’t remember much of that, but that seems about right. You nod.</p><p class="p1">“I could do a skin biopsy, see if there’s anything we can still do,” Wendy offers, you’re sure half due to her professionalism and half due to her sympathy for your pain.You’re tempted to tell her you’re sure nothing will make a difference, but she’s gone out of her way to be helpful and respectful, so why not.</p><p class="p1">You shrug, “Okay.”</p><p class="p1">“Hold on, this will hurt for a second,” she warns, as she sets to work on your skin.</p><p class="p1">You can’t see fully what she does, but you feel the cool sting of an alcohol pad against the apex of your scar on your shoulder, then let out a low hiss when she shaves off a small layer of your skin with a scalpel. However, you’re immensely pleased to discover your only reaction to the sensation of metal across your skin in that area is a light shudder. You don’t even feel your heart rate racing. And you know exactly who to thank for that.</p><p class="p1">She seals your specimen into a bag, and keeps it in her coat pocket before she hands you a piece of paper and asks, “You have an account here that I can send the results to?”</p><p class="p1">“No. But you can call this number,” you answer as you scribble down your digits. Youthink for a second, then add a second set you’ve had memorized for forever and explain, “If you can’t reach me there, call this one. It’s my husband’s.” Finally, overwhelmed by the stress of the morning, relief at John’s status, grace for her treatment of you, your voice and eyes go watery as you reach to squeeze her hand, “Thank you, Dr.— Wendy. Thank you for everything.”</p><p class="p1">She smiles, a beautiful ray of care that pairs with the ruddy spot of color that hints at her cheek, and reassures you, “We’ll get your friend right, don’t worry.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t know what it is about her words that have your heart feeling light, like everything might end up okay, but you find yourself floating along the floor tiles as you exit the exam room to head back to the private ICU area. Maybe because this is a manifestation of your final promise to Jeno - to get his scar healed up prettily - fulfilled in the form of another boy that you love.</p><p class="p1">You have your hand on the door, poised to go in and see John for the first time, but instead you’re frozen in place by Mark’s severe voice rumbling through the closed door, “Dude, we took it mad chill back at home, but I’ve got a ton of shit to say to you.” You’re so baffled by what you hear you duck out of view of the window out of instinct. Rearranging yourself into a position where you can’t be spotted, you peer into John’s hospital room and are greeted by the sight of Yuta and Mark in a showdown with Jaehyun in front of their friend’s bed.</p><p class="p1">“You better believe I do too,” Yuta growls in assent, then jerks his head over to where John’s prone form is hidden by them, “And the day he wakes up, so will he.” Yuta sticks a finger into Jaehyun’s face and lowly warns, “If I ever see her crying because of you again, you better beg your father for another guard.”</p><p class="p1">That’s what this is?</p><p class="p1">Mark stops Yuta with a hand on his chest to ask in a cold voice, “She’s cried because of him before?”</p><p class="p1">“Once. You weren’t there. It was fucking awful.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s face goes as ghostly white as the curtains behind him when he realizes the extent of the torment you’d been through. Funny, how that moment in time on the couch with Yuta and John — where you weren’t able to control your sobbing, yet they hadn’t had a clue as to why you felt so defeated — seems like immaterial now.</p><p class="p1">“Whooo boy,” Mark expels a displeased exhale, cracking his neck as he bounces in place. Then he rip-roars with aggression at his best friend, “You better feel fucking lucky you’re married already and she’d kill me if she heard me say this. Because I would’ve killed <em>you</em> if I was there.”</p><p class="p1">He is so infuriated on your behalf you would’ve been so heart warmed to see it, if it was directed at anyone other than your husband.</p><p class="p1">“Mark—,” Yuta warns.</p><p class="p1">Mark cuts him off before he’s able to alleviate the tension, “No, Yu, I’m dead serious.” He doesn’t approach the other man, doesn’t make any sudden move, but he is powerfully intimidating as he admonishes Jaehyun, “She literally cannot have another day where she’s not happy, got it?”</p><p class="p1">Oh, of course. It makes perfect sense now. All Jeno ever wanted was for you to be happy. And if you’re not, Mark will take that as a slight against his brother, every time.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun raises his hands in self-defense and concedes, “Understood, I swear.”</p><p class="p1">But that doesn’t stop Mark, he goes off in another earth-scorching rant, “God, she was right to call you a fucking asshole then. If you knew you liked her, why on <em>earth</em> would you ever date anyone else, especially knowing the kind of girl she is?”</p><p class="p1">You can’t listen to this anymore.</p><p class="p1">The creak of the door hinge as you step inside nearly drowns out your quiet, placating, “Bumble, come on.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t care if it’s childish or silly for you to instantly go to your man’s defense, but shit, that’s what you’ll do. Even if Mark sees right through you and calls it out, “No, you can’t stand there and defend him for the shit that he did.” You try to block his path of vitriol by standing in between him and Jaehyun, but your best friend just growls over your head, “Which was what, exactly? Go behind your girlfriend’s back the whole time?”</p><p class="p1">Yikes. He went there, to the one brutally candid description of what’d transpired. A dastardly, awful kind of reality that you’d tried to avoid.</p><p class="p1">“No, I—,” Jaehyun begins to protest, before his voice goes quiet and he whispers, “Yes.”</p><p class="p1">His honest admission causes everyone to bristle in awkwardness. You nervously chew on a corner of your lip, knowing how acutely this type of betrayal hurts, knowing that you were, no, are, complicit in ruining someone else’s fairytale. You don’t know if you’re feeling guilt for facing the fact, or if you’re feeling guilty on behalf of not really feeling guilty at all. You’ve done possibly the worst thing you could do to another girl, and of course trauma is never an excuse. But god, you’re having a hard time placing yourself as the villain in all of this. And you know that not seeing Jaehyun as the villain either is not because of your implicit bias.</p><p class="p1">Mark shifts on his feet, not at all expecting Jaehyun to accept the accusation so easily. From his alteration in stance, your eyes are then forced to laser into the sight of John in all of his damaged, horrifying glory. If it wasn’t for the shock of red hair, and the tips of his long legs peeking out from under the covers, you would be hard pressed to say it was him in the hospital bed. His face is swollen and bruised, yet simultaneously devoid of color. He’s hooked up to tubes and machines galore, beeping and ominous, chest trembling as the ventilator breathes for him, bandages and blankets covering up the expanse of the damage across his torso.</p><p class="p1">“We can’t be arguing about this when Johnny is like that.” You don’t even realize you’ve said it until you only catch the automated siren of his breathing alerts, and no fuming words from Yuta, Mark, or Jaehyun. You think that you’ve ended this argument, at least for now, by forcing them to confront why you’ve really come here.</p><p class="p1">But after a few seconds more of contemplation, Mark shakes his head and tries again, “Bee, you cannot defend him this easily. How do we even know if we can trust him if he was able to lie to you for so long!”</p><p class="p1">“We can.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, it’s ok—,”</p><p class="p1">You wave off Jaehyun’s attempt at calming you down by insisting to him, “We <em>can.</em>” You turn to your best friend, intending to hold him accountable for his words, “You saw the footage, Mark. You know it wasn’t just him being an asshole.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve got him there. He falls silent, no return argument prepared for this. You hadn’t told him the exact details of why that video exists, but you suppose he deserves them now.</p><p class="p1">“What footage, dude?” Yuta asks, confused and nervous as he watches this standoff. “What is she talking about, Jae?”</p><p class="p1">“It—,”</p><p class="p1">You’ll tell this story, it’s one you brought onto yourself anyways, “The night before Jae’s birthday party this year, we decided we wanted to be together. For real, there was no one else, it was supposed to be us from then on.”</p><p class="p1">Neither of your friends look particularly surprised at the notion, beyond piqued interest that it had happened back in February. They’re even polite enough to search through your hidden meaning to figure out what you’d been doing together and not ask. None of this would’ve happened if Regent Jung hadn’t shown up on your porch that morning. You would’ve languished in Jaehyun’s beautiful confession for the rest of your days if you’d woken up to him in your bed.</p><p class="p1">“It’s about me,” Jaehyun gently interrupts you, soft hand on your shoulder stopping you for him to take over. “So I will explain.” He takes a deep breath and forges ahead with the story, “My dad found me in the morning. He took that opportunity to try and destroy it all forever, and he almost got away with it.”</p><p class="p1">“None of that explains—,”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun cuts off Mark’s brusque question with harsh clarity, “Mimi wasn’t the one to present me with the idea of a relationship at the beginning. It was a power move, designed by our parents to make our families allies.”</p><p class="p1">You’re met with silence again. The pair of men definitely hadn’t been expecting that, considering Mimi had spent the entire relationship telling folks that she had been the one to ask Jaehyun out first. Yuta’s brow furrows as he tries to comprehend that revelation and asks, “For what reason would they want to do that?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun shrugs sadly, the answer still a mystery to him too, “I don’t know. I didn’t know then, still don’t now. But after I dared to have the one thing I’ve ever truly wanted, he took careful steps to try and keep his plans in order.” You feel his grasp tighten around you, then he whispers, “He threatened me. If I didn’t get her to leave Neozone, he’d have Pandora soldiers arrest her or kill her.”</p><p class="p1">The machine breathing for John gives a particularly loud beep, as if expressing displeasure on his behalf. Mark’s eyes have fluttered closed, now fully understanding the context of what he’d watched on your computer.</p><p class="p1">And Yuta, your eternal guardian, well, you’ve never seen him so furious. “What the fuck,” he spits, face turning red with his rage.</p><p class="p1">“To make matters worse,” Jaehyun swallows thickly, hesitation and regret palpable in his voice as he prepares to clarify his horrendous actions, “Dad suggested that I use the memory of Jeno to do it.” A synchronized intake of sharp breath punctuates his reassurance, “Which I didn’t do, obviously, but that. That was just too much. All I had left to use were her feelings for me, so to keep her safe, I just ruined both of us.”</p><p class="p1">You could hear this tale a thousand times, and you’re sure it’ll inspire a crushing ton of grief in your chest each instance. Your view of Mark’s face goes hazy under the sheen of your gathering tears, but you see it pretty plainly, the horror and heartbreak that cascades against his features all at once.</p><p class="p1">“Ohhhh,” he sighs, eyes fluttering closed and open. “Jae, you didn’t.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun tucks you into his chest, a beacon of comfort for him, then he confirms, “I did.” He steels himself, then repeats, “I did, Mark, would you have done any differently if that’s what your father asked you to do?” The undertones of his question are there, <em>Would you have done everything you possibly could to keep y/n safe</em>? and you know he’s won this argument, forever.</p><p class="p1">“My father would’ve never asked me to do that!” Mark protests, because there has never been a more striking difference between the two parents than there is now.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun pries, needing to hear his best friend’s admission, “But if he had!”</p><p class="p1">“Jae.”</p><p class="p1">“Mark.”</p><p class="p1">After their desperate back and forth, Mark’s eyes flick to you in Jaehyun’s arms, you, his best friend and sister. And you know he knows. He puts a hand on John’s bed frame to steady himself as he shakily concedes, “O-of course I would’ve done the same. Of course.”</p><p class="p1">There it is, the flicker of your soul in him.</p><p class="p1">“Why didn’t you tell us anything, though?” Yuta gently interrupts, taking his time to ask questions after hanging back during their argument. “We could’ve helped you. We never...” He’s at a loss for words, too horrified by the truth to form a complete sentence, “None of this would’ve... you should’ve told us.”</p><p class="p1">“How could I have told you?” Jaehyun whispers, past exhaustion now.</p><p class="p1">Yuta bursts out with passion, Mark nodding fiercely in agreement, “We could’ve talked, I don’t know, we could have! Somewhere private! John was still your guard then, too!”</p><p class="p1">There’s no use dwelling on the what-ifs anymore. You’ve gotten to the same conclusion, albeit on a far, far more convoluted path. And the same thought continues to ring in your head, that you cannot be arguing like this while John is in the state that he’s in.</p><p class="p1">“So, you guys should talk now,” you cut in, voice soft yet imploring. “You need to talk, because we can’t let this drive us apart in any way. The stakes are too high.” It’s a conversation they need to have on their own, without your bias or influence. You have enough faith in them that they’ll hash this out and come out brothers like they always have. They better. You’d never forgive them if they let this stupid fight break them apart.</p><p class="p1">Mark and Yuta share a glance together, then they meet eyes with Jaehyun over your head, nodding tacitly at your request. You hold out your hand, forcing Mark to come to you, and you squeeze his fingers, reminding him of the truth, “Love you.”</p><p class="p1">His eyes soften as his mouth forms the words in a silent return, <em>Love you, too.</em></p><p class="p1">You shift in Jaehyun’s grasp to look upon him again, pang of pain crashing into you when you see the tears tracked across his face. You kiss him on the cheek, a note of affection, and you say it to him too, “Love you, I’ll see you at home.”</p><p class="p1">You leave them to heal themselves.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The house is bustling when you make it back in the taxi on your own, but luckily, your father is in the very back of the gathered crowd. You walk up to his side and tuck your chin into his shoulder, asking quietly, “How are things?”</p><p class="p1">He turns with a smile to see you there, and explains, “Kyungah’s just begun the meeting.” He leans his head into yours and asks, “Are you okay, sweet pea?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m great, Daddy,” you answer honestly, unable to wipe the tiny grin off your face, “well, you know.As great as can be.”</p><p class="p1">“Good.”</p><p class="p1">Together, you move to pay attention to Kyungah at the head of the room, Hyungsik beside her in front of a sheet of paper pasted up on your wall. The dust of yesterday’s chaos has settled, and now you have to get to work. As if she’s a general preparing to war, the older woman addresses the room, “All the facts of what we know are listed here. We need to set aside our emotion to find the correct path forward.”</p><p class="p1">There are too many personal details involved in what’s going on right now. You’re going to have to do your best to separate yourself from your emotions in doing what she’s asked. Said emotions are running high in the room, manifested in the way almost everyone jumps out of their seats when the front door bangs open with a new arrival. Mark, Yuta, and Jaehyun are there in your home, taking off their shoes. They don’t look any worse for wear and they've followed behind you quickly, a good sign their discussion had been productive enough to not transform into another fight.</p><p class="p1">Mark is the first to notice everyone is staring, and he offers a sheepish, “Ah, sorry. Didn’t realize we’d be barging into something. Please, carry on.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a palpable bolus of nervous energy that’s rushing through the group. Why aren’t they continuing on? It’s not like Pandora guards were the ones who just appeared. You find out why from Hyungsik’s harsh question, “Isn’t he the new Vice Premier’s son? Should he even be here?”</p><p class="p1">In an instant you’ve left your father’s side to block Jaehyun from view as best as you can. He’s not his father, he’s not, and it is wildly unfair for Hyungsik to be acting like this. You fix him with a fierce stare and state, “He’s my husband.”</p><p class="p1">“That doesn’t matter,” Hyungsik sneers in condescension, thinking you’re both still playing a part. “Marital status does not indicate political status.”</p><p class="p1">Set aside your emotions, y/n, you have to be objective when you look at this situation. There are only a handful of people in this room that actually know the truth behind where Jaehyun’s heart truly lies, and the onus is not on everyone else to draw their own conclusions. Of course to an outsider he’d be seen as a Neozone man through and through, molded in the image of his father. You’ll have to tell them all the truth and hope to god that they believe you. You’re prepared to take a more measured, yet still defensive approach, but you don’t get the chance to.</p><p class="p1">“I’m on your side,” Jaehyun admits instead, voice drowned out under the weight of the stares. “I think I always have been.”</p><p class="p1">He always has. Always, always. Your first week in Neozone had sealed the deal, you’ll never forget his words. <em>Baekhyun Byun is the best singer ever, and he’s from Elyxion. That shouldn’t matter. </em>Your father comes to stand by your side in defense of Jaehyun, your mother right behind him. Mark crosses his arms over his chest in defiance and Yuta joins him in a similar position. Hyungsik could implore to get your husband thrown out, but he needs to remember this is <em>your</em> house.</p><p class="p1">Perhaps recognizing she cannot have this meeting devolve into a brawl, Kyungah soothes the tension, “Sik, now is not the time. If Mr. Jung chooses to betray us and stay loyal to his father, he’ll be dealt with appropriately.”</p><p class="p1">You certainly don’t like the wording she’s used, but you’ll let it slide in the effort of diplomacy.</p><p class="p1">“The first order of business,” Kyungah turns back to the bigger matter at hand, “Exordium is not safe. The benefits of remaining in this city are lost to the potential ramifications of being discovered here. We need to go somewhere secluded.” She fixes her gaze in your direction and says, “By the time the military outpost opens at nine, I’m sure there will be someone waiting at the gate for you two.”</p><p class="p1">You catch Mark’s confused cough, and you glance at him through your peripheral vision before he laughs in disbelief, “Us?”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes hone in on Seulgi sitting near the front of the room, and you know what Kyungah is saying. If Sehun and Mrs. Oh were arrested without warning, it is only a matter of time for you. You run a tired hand through your hair and quietly explain, “Taeil was right. We’re associates. Everyone here could be implicated in some way and cannot be found in my house.”</p><p class="p1">“Father will help us,” Yuta blurts, without precedence. Everyone turns to look at him, unfamiliar with who his parent is, and he explains, “My father is Lt. General Nakamoto. Our family has a summer home in Seventh Settlement, he and I will be able to transport everyone there in one go if we get two vans.”</p><p class="p1">Hyungsik’s eyes narrow. “Your father is in the Neozone military?”</p><p class="p1">There isn’t even a second for people to bristle in apprehension before Yuta is providing evidence to the contrary, “He has no qualms with your people, and will be an ally if you need me to ask. I can have everything arranged within the hour.”</p><p class="p1">Seulgi is spurred into motion, standing and declaring, “I’ll go, too.” You hear the denial in your friend’s mouth, the <em>don’t</em>, but she’s fiercer than he could ever dare to be, “No, Yu, you can’t ask me to sit around here and wait, I need to be doing something.” She turns to Kyungah and explains, “Our family lawyer wasn’t able to get into our house, where they’re keeping Mama and Sehun. No one knows where they’re holding Papa.”</p><p class="p1">You swallow nervously, knowing that Michael’s longtime lawyer Kyuhyun hadn’t been able to reach him either.</p><p class="p1">“Is it the Pandora Prison?” someone in the crowd asks, trying to get more information.</p><p class="p1">“No,” Hyungsik denies, knowing how the system works. “If they’re treating them like high profile criminals, it’ll be some luxury apartment complex. Don’t know which, though.” Yikes. That could be any apartment in Pandora.</p><p class="p1">Suho stands up to offer up his help in the matter, also unable to sit back and worry about his boyfriend, “I’ll hold the fort down here in Neozone. They don’t know who I am, so it’ll be much safer. And I have to deal with the press, they’ve been wondering about Baekhyun canceling his fanmeets.” It’s just layer after layer after layer of fuckery, you barely have enough emotional capacity to worry on your friend’s behalf. He did sing the national anthem at the baseball game, you'd seen footage of his angelic voice on the news reports. At least as of yesterday, he was still alive.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, it’s settled,” Kyungah decides, beginning to divvy up the plan. “Mr. Kim will remain here as our point of contact to Regent Oh and his legal team, while Mr. Nakamoto and Ms. Oh will assist me in transportation to Seventh Settlement. Hyungsik will remain behind.” Suho, Yuta, and Seulgi all nod in understanding and she carries on, “Once we’re there, we can begin to make arrangements to get out of Dorado. Everyone, we will reconvene when we have more details. Stick close to the house in case they do send a legion up here. ”</p><p class="p1">Yuta nods, and exits your house to make a call to his father on the porch. The mass of bodies inside your home begins to bubble with anxious noise as people pack up their meager belongings in preparation to flee. You would’ve found leaving Dorado a drastic measure before, but now you’re convinced that might be the only way to live in peace again.</p><p class="p1">You’re not going to have a moment for a heartfelt discussion, nor a poignant goodbye with Kyungah.The right thing would be to break the news to her in a matter of fact way before she goes, tell her that while she’s seen you as her son’s only love — having not been there for his relationship with Luna — he was not only yours. You have to be precise in how you go about it, something like, <em>I care for your son, he’s done so much for me. I truly, truly thought that I was going to be with him for a lifetime. But I, I don’t know what happened.</em></p><p class="p1">All of it comes out sounding like you’re shoving your happiness in her face, which is something you’d never want to do to the woman. It’s certainly not your fault, but it kind of feels like it is. Without the occurrence of a few events, you would’ve been married to Kyungsoo right now, and he would not be in the capital all alone. So, you can’t tell her anything about Jaehyun, not right now. She’ll understand in the future when you get a chance to explain. After all, she went through this once before. </p><p class="p1">You stop her as she’s passing out blankets from your closet, a soft touch to her forearm. You peer at her with earnest eyes as you quietly say, “Something has been off with him this whole time.”</p><p class="p1">“I know,” she admits, echoing your unspoken concern that there’s been the wrong kind of aura surrounding Kyungsoo since he was brought to the capital. “He... he was always a serious boy, but never like this.”</p><p class="p1">Michael, Dohun, Sehun, Baekhyun, Kyungsoo. The list is too long and too convoluted to really make sense of. All you can do is blindly believe that you will somehow get this all worked out yourself. There’s no way you can step foot in Pandora again, but you’ll figure it out.</p><p class="p1">That’s what you say to her, in your most solemn swear, “He saved me once. So, I will try my best to repay the favor. I’ll call. You know my number now.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungah nods once - grateful for you, for how you care for her son, even still - and then her attention is drawn to the top of the stairs. Mark’s mother is leaning against the railing of the landing outside of your bedroom, hair a mess, eyes absolutely devastated, but understanding of what’s going down without explanation. You’ve been too caught up in things to witness the reunion between the two sisters, but you read the unadulterated love all over Kyungah’s face as she stares up at her broken baby sister. Their foster brother's life hangs in the balance, they can't sit back and idle no matter how devastated they are.</p><p class="p1">“Jeongie!” she calls, waving a hand so that Mark's mother will look down. “Love you, caterpillar.”</p><p class="p1">Mrs. Lee’s hand clutches at her chest, over the thrumming of her heart, and she mouths it back, <em>Love you too, buggy.</em></p><p class="p1">Yuta bursts in the room, the perfect saving grace to keep you from getting too emotional. He waves his hands and announces, “Father’s arrived. He said Neozone troops were dispatched to search the VP’s mansion, so it should only be a matter of time before they come to the hill. We cannot be caught here.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a second of hesitation, then the room detonates into an inferno of panic. Kyungah goes to stand on your kitchen counter and command, “Everybody must go, now! Follow Mr. Nakamoto, we will take care of you!”</p><p class="p1">People begin to bustle around the room, picking up their jackets and belongings, moving at the speed of light as they begin to herd out your door. Kyungah pats Mark on the cheek once before she breaks to wait by the door, and you head over to your entryway as well, to hand out the rest of the bottles of water and extra blankets. It’s a surreal feeling, watching the refugees your parents had saved, the Exordium members, even Baekhyun’s team go by, exchanging head nods with those you’re familiar with. It seriously comes across as the last time you might be ever seeing these folks.</p><p class="p1">Outside in your plaza, Yuta and his father are shuttling individuals in between vans, cramming as many as they can into the backseats regardless of occupancy limit. You have no idea if they’re even going to make it to Seventh Settlement safely, there are surely checkpoints on the highway now set up with all of the rising tension between the regions. But there’s no time to worry about that, you have to trust that Mr. Nakamoto has the information necessary to avoid being caught in a military ambush.</p><p class="p1">You catch a flash of brown hair preparing to go by you, and you reach out to snag Seulgi away from the crowd. In another life, she would’ve been your dearest girlfriend. Instead, you’ve been cursed to only know each other tangentially like this. She has to come back, because you need to thank her for making your best friend so unbelievably happy.</p><p class="p1">But there’s no time for sappy sentiment, you can only grasp her forearm and affirm, “I will do what I can.” There’s no specific promise you can make, you cannot tell her with certainty that you will rescue and free her father and brother. But you’re doing all you can. It’s for her, it’s for everyone, and she knows.</p><p class="p1">Her fingers press into your arm in return and she nods in understanding, “Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">She rounds out the rear of the crowd with Kyungah, the last of the Exordium members trickling out in front of her. Suddenly you’re consumed with the desperate need to have this end in not such a sorrowful manner. Running out onto the porch behind her, you take a crazed look between the two vans, realizing that you might’ve missed your shot.</p><p class="p1">“Yuta!” you yell, unable to spot his silver ponytail anywhere. “Yuta!” The driver door of the second van flies open, and your friend’s head pops up over the roof of the car, trying to find the source of the noise. You wave at him, the man who’s protected you for so long, and you hope this isn’t the last time you say it, “I love you!”</p><p class="p1">“For forever!” he echoes the sentiment Mark had sworn before you’d gone into the Choi mansion.</p><p class="p1">His head disappears once more, the door closes behind him, and he’s off.</p><p class="p1">As soon as the van rounds the corner out of sight, a strong voice echoes straight out your open front door in a yell, “Wait! We need to get Michael!” You stumble back in your house to crane your neck to the top of your stairs. Mrs. Lee is now consumed with fiery energy, hair a halo of determination around her head as she addresses those of you who are left in the house. </p><p class="p1">“Mom.”</p><p class="p1">Mark is halfway up the stairs before she holds a hand up and sweetly reassures him, “I’m okay, lovey.” She faces Hyungsik, eyes blazing, and drives her point home, “You can’t stop with just getting them out of the city. We have to get my husband.”</p><p class="p1">“Your husband who may or may not have killed my grandfather.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even know what happens before you’re watching Mark fly through your living room, launching himself at Hyungsik without hesitation. Your hand flies to cover your mouth as you watch Mark attack him with unrestrained fury, his fists pummeling any inch of the taller man’s body that’s within his reach. It’s a cathartic release of an onslaught of terrible emotions, and you wish it weren’t wholly inappropriate for you to cheer in support of your best friend. You understand Hyungsik’s point of view, of course losing a family member is devastating, but he needs to have some sense knocked into him.</p><p class="p1">You feel someone push past you and then you’re watching Jaehyun run up to the fracas and yank Mark out from the circle of violence.“Let go of me, dude!” Mark yells, straining against Jaehyun’s grasp as best he can, still trying to swing his fist against Hyungsik’s bloody face, “I’m going to fucking kill him!”</p><p class="p1">“See what I’m saying!” Hyungsik exclaims to anyone who will listen as he holds his probably broken nose. “It runs in the family!”</p><p class="p1">Oh, he did fucking not. You feel your father’s hand close around your arm and realize you’ve leapt forward to enter the foray, just as you see Jaehyun fuse his grip on Mark. Mark who is shouting at the top of his lungs now, neck straining with agony, “What did you say! What did you say about my family!” He tries to throw an elbow into Jaehyun’s chest, and screams some more, “Let go of me, Jae!”</p><p class="p1">You’re surprised that Jaehyun actually lets go of him at the command, but then you realize there’s someone standing right in front of Mark.</p><p class="p1">“Marky,” Mrs. Lee holds her son’s face in her hands, and orders him, “Mark Minhyung Lee, stop it.”</p><p class="p1">Even being held by his mother like he’s a boy doesn’t stop Mark’s vitriol, who spits over her shoulder in Hyungsik’s direction, “Dad only became a politician because your grandfather convinced him to, douche bag!” He struggles against his mom’s surprisingly firm hold and his voice starts to break with fatigue, “He didn’t know what to do with himself after Mom went missing and Premier Park suggested he try to make a difference in Neozone because of it. Does that sound like someone capable of murder?”</p><p class="p1">You hear Mrs. Lee’s sad gasp, that matches your stuttered exhale. You never knew that. Tears start to prick at your eyes, knowing that rings true to every memory of Michael you’ve had. Of course he would be the kind of person to take his deepest personal pain and try to turn it into something good.</p><p class="p1">Though Hyungsik looks appropriately perplexed, he still has another card in his deck. “But you heard Premier Kim. Tulip tea.”</p><p class="p1">The mention of his parents' shared flower gets Mark’s anger boiling again. He takes a step forward against his mother, and sneers, “I helped make that tulip tea—,”</p><p class="p1">You manage to escape your father’s grasp and go running to your best friend’s defense. You throw yourself in the middle of it, something that is becoming a habit for you, and level the man down with a serious stare. You keep your voice as calm as you can when you address Hyungsik, “You had no qualms about immediately believing the charges against Regent Oh were false. Why is that?”</p><p class="p1">“I-, I..,”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t have an answer and you know exactly why, “Because Regent Oh’s matter is not personal for you. You have not allowed yourself to look at the situation objectively like you were instructed.” He’s only looking at Michael’s crimes through the lens of being a grandson, it’s a given he would believe anything that proved his theory Premier Park didn’t die of natural causes.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, come on, do you think that Dohun would send someone to kill his foster sister’s <em>kids</em>?” Hyungsik tries, in an attempt to get you to see his point of view, but he’s done the exact opposite.</p><p class="p1">“Exactly. Do you think that Michael Lee, widely known as the kindhearted steward of Neozone, would ever be capable of setting up something like a <em>bombing</em>? Would be able to kill his <em>mentor</em>?” you ask the rhetorical question to him and he knows you’re right.</p><p class="p1">Mrs. Lee flashes you a smile of gratitude before you turn back to hear Hyungsik’s stiff words, “People present fake personas all the time. I don’t know him.”</p><p class="p1">Game, set, match.</p><p class="p1">“And I had only met Regent Oh once before I was taken,” you point out. “Yet I have never, ever blamed him or the people of Elyxion for things that I’ve gone through.” And if that’s not enough to convince him that he’s wrong, you too have one thing left in your arsenal, “This is exactly what they want to happen.”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, but use your brain,” you say, not in the effort to insult him but to get him to think rationally. “All these events happening in a row, it’s obvious they’re planning something big. The moment we don’t present a united front is the moment they destroy us.” He’s hesitating now, and you know you have him, “Even if you somehow still don’t believe that this is all a complete setup job to accomplish something we don’t know yet, you have to admit Michael was taken wrongly.”</p><p class="p1">“We…” Hyungsik sighs, and you tense, waiting for his answer, “…indeed have not seen their warrants or evidence.”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes shutter closed with relief. Thank god.</p><p class="p1">Your father takes over, trying to quell the verbal violence that had gotten out of hand, “She’s right. We know Kyuhyun and his legal team have not been able to see Michael. We need to get in there and at least talk to them both, but we have no way of showing up to Pandora without risking getting arrested on sight.”</p><p class="p1">Oh, but you do. You really do.</p><p class="p1">Your mouth moves of its own volition, “Yes, we do.”</p><p class="p1">“How?” somebody asks, maybe Mark, but you’re not looking for the source of the question right now.</p><p class="p1">You’re only looking to where Jaehyun is standing. If today turns out to be the only day of your life that you get to be Jaehyun’s, well, it will have been worth it. Because his beautiful eyes are enough to keep you going for all the lifetimes to follow.</p><p class="p1">Because he’s meant for you in every way, he knows what you’re thinking of, and he immediately denies it, “No.”</p><p class="p1">“Jae, what?” It’s Mark for sure this time, watching his friend go roaring by him to crowd into your proximity.</p><p class="p1">This is the saddest you’ve ever seen Jaehyun, the diamond tears in his eyes the most precious gemstones in the world. He’s afraid to touch you, hands hovering by your sides as he starts to beg, “No, no, you can’t do this.” He glances to your parents to back him up, but even they are unsure of what you’ve meant. Perhaps this is the only drawback of the way he knows you this intimately, that he’s the only one that’s experiencing the keen pain of realization right now.</p><p class="p1">“Do what!” Mark bellows. “Someone say something!”</p><p class="p1">You don’t want to look away from Jaehyun, not now, not ever, but you have to. You turn around, and you smile wistfully at Hyungsik before whispering, “The Premier’s son has asked for me to join him in Pandora, so I will go.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s stunned, “Bee,” echoes just as you pick up on your mother’s shocked, “Sweet pea.”</p><p class="p1">You feel the warmth of Jaehyun’s palm come against your arm, but you brush him off to stand toe to toe with Hyungsik. He finally comes across as apologetically contrite, but you also pick up on the excited gleam in his eyes that you’ve got an in. You lay out your idea in simple terms, “Kyungsoo will ensure I will not be seen as an associate of Michael’s.”</p><p class="p1">“You can’t go alone. If Mark can’t go, I’ll go with you,” Jaehyun blusters from behind you, tugging at your body to turn you back to him.</p><p class="p1">“No,” you bite out, tears pooling again in your eyes. You can’t do this. You whirl in place to look upon your husband again, the man you love most, and you have to say it, “I can’t show up with you. Because I need to make it look like I’ve chosen <em>him</em>.”</p><p class="p1">It’s a sword right through his chest, drawing out his hefty little, “No,” as his face crumples.</p><p class="p1">“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. You don’t even get a moment of reprieve to mourn for the severing of your relationship, because the sight of Mark there with his mother is a reminder that you’re wasting precious time. You reach over to tug at his sleeve and order, “Go to Jae’s, now. Just in case.”</p><p class="p1">Even though you’re almost certain you can shimmy your way out of this, you can’t be confident. You’re only ordering Mark to do this based on the naive hope that if they do come, the electric fence will keep the Special Forces out for as long as possible. That Regent Jung is naive enough to still believe his son is not intertwined in your life, will prevent the soldiers from searching the other house. It’s all you have right now. If Mark goes down into the city, he’ll be a sitting duck.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun perhaps sees this too, because his dimple flashes when he quirks his lips in understanding and ushers his best friend out of your living room, “Come on, M.” He gently takes Mark’s mother’s arm as well, tender in his care, “You too, Mrs. Lee.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even get to watch his retreating back meander across the space between your houses, because you're drawn back in at Suho’s urgent tone, “I’ll going to the legal office downtown. See what I can do.”</p><p class="p1">You nod, patting his arm in comfort before he goes jogging through the front door and out the front gate. You’re about to take a breather, to go up to your room and savor the privacy of your now empty home while you do what you need to do. But you’re stopped from doing so by the three remaining adults blocking your exit. You’ll think they’ll step aside and let you pass, but your father holds an arm out to stop you.</p><p class="p1">“Let's go for a walk in the woods, in case the soldiers do come,” your mother carefully instructs, trying to pull you away from the stairs. “We’ll stick close and come back in the afternoon.”</p><p class="p1">You pull your arm out of her grasp, shaking your head and denying, “They won’t come.”</p><p class="p1">“They know who you spend your time with,” your father laments with bitterness, thinking this is just you being innocent about the government’s intentions.</p><p class="p1">You expel a deep sigh, one that aches at the center of your chest, then you repeat again, “They won’t. Give me a minute.”</p><p class="p1">You fumble for your phone in the pocket of the sweatpants you’d borrowed from Jaehyun in the wee hours of this morning. This is why you’d wanted to be alone, to give yourself enough emotional space to make this certain phone call. But they’ve forced your hand. In front of their weighty stares, you flick to a number in your contacts, and put the call on speaker. It rings, and rings, and you’re praying that no one will answer, even though them doing so will help you immensely.</p><p class="p1">“Hello?” The call connects, and you slam your eyes shut.</p><p class="p1">“Hi.”</p><p class="p1">You can practically hear the smile on Kyungsoo’s face. “Blueberry girl.”</p><p class="p1">You turn away from them, to brace yourself against the dining table, to have the familiar sight of Jaehyun’s home comfort you through the window. Then, you begin the next act of your performance, putting false saccharine sweetness into your voice, “I um, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, you know? I miss you so much.”</p><p class="p1">“I miss you too,” he wheedles in return, the same strange, lovey-dovey Kyungsoo coming out. “I didn’t want to leave Neozone without you, but there was no time.”</p><p class="p1">“What if... what if you didn’t have to miss me?” you begin tentatively, teeing up the words that may as well seal your fate. “Should I come to Pandora? Do you want me to?”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">Because you’re looking at the house of the man you love, it is not altogether hard to muster up the words to convince the man you’d almost loved to believe you, “All I know is that I don’t want to be apart from you anymore. And if that means I have to come to Pandora to do so, I will do it.”</p><p class="p1">It’s killing you to do this, to stand there on the phone knowing your parents are listening into this conversation. His excitement maroons into a clog in his throat, choked happiness spilling into your ears, “Oh my gosh, yes, yes. Please come here to be with me. That’s all I want.”</p><p class="p1">You feel fucking terrible. “You have to help me though? Okay?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, anything you need.”</p><p class="p1">You put on your very worst, distressed type of inflection, and beg him, “Please, please send me a private car, not soldiers.” You let out a shuddering sigh and repeat, “I can’t do soldiers, please, I can't.”</p><p class="p1">It’s another stain of sin on your soul, yet again using your shared trauma to convince him to help you. Yes, you’re doing it in an effort to save dozens of lives, but it is icky either way. Especially with how he easily obliges, wanting to put your personal feeling ahead of any other agenda, “Of course. I’ll get on the phone with the outpost right away to have them stand down today. I'll get a car to you first thing tomorrow morning.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m so excited to see you, I love you,” he murmurs, and you know he’s simply been aching to say that phrase to you once again.</p><p class="p1">Because you’re still a terrible person, you cannot muster the energy to lie and say it back, settling on a soft, “Bye,” before you end the call. You pick up on the anxious shuffling of feet, and hold up a hand to stop the others from immediately questioning you, “Give me a second.”There’s no relief to be felt that the soldiers won’t arrive at your door, all you can feel is guilt, guilt, and more guilt. You have to be strategic with your explanation, turning to them and groaning, “Well, that felt awful.”</p><p class="p1">Your parents, you know, will take your harrowed appearance and not press any further. But Hyungsik is the wild card. He throws a wrench right into your emotions when he looks at you with curious eyes and asks, “When you said <em>chosen him</em> about that kid, what were you saying?”</p><p class="p1">God, you shouldn’t have said that. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. Well, there’s no explaining this without anything other than the truth. And lying will only dig this nefarious hole deeper for you.</p><p class="p1">Your fingers go to your hand, but not to pinch at your palm. You nervously twist the ring of gold around your finger and murmur, “Regent Jung’s son and I. My flowers blossomed for him some time ago, and his did so yesterday. The marriage wasn’t just one of convenience for us.”</p><p class="p1">You’re afraid to look up and see their reactions, expecting a dearth of support and an overflowing trough of dismay. But you really should know better by now, because you hear your father’s soft, “Oh, sweet pea. That’s what you meant by good? His flower blossomed, too?” and your eyes immediately well up.</p><p class="p1">You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, then glance up to your parents. Your sweet parents, who have tears on their eyelashes as they hold hands and watch their little girl confess she’s found her true love. They don’t look surprised - after all, they’d already spent time with Jaehyun as his in-laws, and heard his confession about your flower.</p><p class="p1">You let out a little laugh, then nod, “Yeah, Daddy. Yeah.”</p><p class="p1">He squeezes his wife in his arms, absolutely overjoyed on your behalf. But you realize that while it wasn’t a surprise for them, it certainly is for the third person out on the porch with you. You’d been better at playing this part than you thought, and it is so achingly relieving to let it all once, even in simple terms.</p><p class="p1">“I made a promise to Kyungah that I would look out for her son too. That is because at one point, Kyungsoo was the person I’d chosen just for myself.” You glance back up to the image of Jaehyun’s house, framed in a glossy outline of mid-morning sun, and you sigh, “But someone else has been picked out for me for far longer.”</p><p class="p1">“He’s the new Vice—,”</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun did not go to the capital with his father. What does that say to you, Hyungsik?” you prod him with another rhetorical question, quite impressed with yourself that you’re approaching this with the mind of logic, rather than one overwhelmed with emotion. “I can’t ask you to change your opinions without evidence, but he almost destroyed his life for me. Does that not sound like someone you want on our side?”</p><p class="p1">You don’t know Hyungsik well enough to know if he has a love of his own in his life, but something in your words must move him. He presses a hand to his forehead as he thinks, handsome face crumpled with the effort, and then he caves, “Alright. We will keep an eye on young Mr. Jung for you while you’re gone.”</p><p class="p1">The words inspire relief, sure. But the full, tender hand of grateful reprieve is brushed over you with your father's quiet promise, "Jae's family now. Mom and I have him, sweet pea. Don't you worry."</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u for reading!!!!!!!! xo! have a wonderful weekend wherever you are</p><p>I have been slacking in giving you music choices! here are some songs i've been loving lately that are super unrelated to the chapter, but that i listened to while editing! very r&amp;b smooth jam if that's what you're into, no kpop this time</p><p>-come thru - jacquees<br/>-on call - trey songz ft. ty dolla sign<br/>-i got you - bazzi</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. tanacetum vulgare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Let me ask you something. Was there, in our time apart, ever a moment for you where you just knew you’d never love anyone else?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>keep this handy: dorado map - ibb.co/S5VfGDD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Your parents and Hyungsik decide they want to take a walk, wanting to be out in the forest that reminds them so much of home.</p><p class="p1">So you sit in your house alone, cup of coffee in hand, and wait. You wait, and wait, and only after the clock ticks to ten are you convinced the soldiers won’t be coming. It’s still just ten in the morning, you can’t believe all this has transpired in the span of a few hours. But you can’t waste much more time — this is your last day of freedom, and you know exactly how you want to spend it. Grabbing the jacket over the back of your chair so you can return it, you walk back out your front door, allowing the crisp autumn air to invigorate your tired bones.You lazily trace the path by the fountain to the house across the way, savoring how childishly happy the action makes you feel, how it recalls you wildly running back and forth with your flower last night.</p><p class="p1">When you push the front door open quietly, you’re surprised to hear there’s already a heated conversation going on inside. You’re prepared to chastise Mark and Jaehyun for getting in a fight, presuming they had patched up things at the hospital, but then you realize that the other voice arguing with Jaehyun’s isn’t male. It’s very distinctly female. You hide again in the alcove of his entryway, trying to get your bearings on what you’ve walked into.</p><p class="p1">“You broke up with me literally two seconds ago, why do you care?”</p><p class="p1">You muffle an expletive. Mimi.</p><p class="p1">“Just tell me why,” Jaehyun’s severe tone slices right through you. “This isn’t a game, I need to know. Why did your Dad arrange our relationship with mine?”</p><p class="p1">You peer past the coat stand to see Mimi and Jaehyun confronting each other from opposite ends of his dining room table, a particularly bizarre sight considering your blossomed flowers are on the wood before her. But she doesn’t seem to care, eyes lit up with immense sadness, in direct contrast to the blaze of disdain in Jaehyun’s stare.</p><p class="p1">“God, it was to make me happy, alright?” she admits, fully embarrassed to do so. “You never liked me and arranged marriages aren’t a Neozone tradition anyone. That was the closest he could get.”</p><p class="p1">You and Jaehyun must have the same simultaneous thought that she’s not telling the full truth, because your nose wrinkles just as he scoffs, “It was more than that, you and I both know.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know, it’s my dad, he’d do anything I want and all I wanted was you!”</p><p class="p1">“Tell me the truth! Tell me, I swear to god!” He’s banging the chair he’s holding onto against the floor in an effort to control himself from doing anything more drastic, boiling into a tantrum. She comes across as angry as he is, purse fisted tightly in her hands as she shakes in a rage, incensed to be humiliated in this way.</p><p class="p1">“Jae,” you call lightly, unable to hide in the shadows and watch him, no, watch them, work themselves any more into a fury. Though Mimi isn’t a direct part of your group, the sentiment still stands. The moment you fight, you’re at your weakest.</p><p class="p1">When he sees you, Jaehyun’s face completely transforms, tiny grin tugging at his lips, anger forgotten as he calls, “Hey.” Even though you’ve walked into a tense moment, he really looks beyond cute, he always does, and you cannot stop the small smile either.</p><p class="p1">Mimi looks over from her ex over to you, back to her ex, back to you, voice going tinny when she starts to put it together, “Wait. Is she, is she the girl you were talking about?”</p><p class="p1">“If there’s anything more to this, you need to tell me, Mimi,” Jaehyun orders sharply, sidestepping her question.</p><p class="p1">“No, you answer me first.”</p><p class="p1">He throws his hands in the air, then brings them down on the chair with a smack, tone rising with his rebuilding frustration, “Of course it’s her. And I promise you, if keeping your mouth shut hurts her in any way—,”</p><p class="p1">This is not the way it’s supposed to be. He’s allowed to hold anger, but you hate, <em>hate</em> to see him behave in this way. You rush over to stand in front of him, to stroke his arm tenderly and soothe, “Shhh, not like this.” He’s trembling under your grasp, and it’s now that you’re in his orbit that you can tell it’s not with anger, but with fear. Fear of losing you.</p><p class="p1">You take your hands off him, to not rub it in her face, since you know what you will say to Mimiwill come off in that manner, anyways. You turn to face her and confess, “It’s pretty much all my fault. I’ve been so stupid to try and deny this, but I have loved Jae from the very beginning.”</p><p class="p1">Her pained exhale is a blow to the heart, “Oh.”</p><p class="p1">You doubt she believes or trusts you enough to accept any explanation, but you have to give it a go, “I always tried my best to get you two together, to get you both what I thought you wanted. But time and time again, it always came back to him. He was who I was talking about to Jeno, because I didn’t know you were together at the time.”</p><p class="p1">It doesn’t feel manipulative to use Jeno in this way, finally, because it’s the truth she deserves to know. You hadn’t said it in an effort to turn Jaehyun away from her, you’d said it because you were desperate, clueless, and in love. That’s it.</p><p class="p1">“But you said—,” Mimi trails off, thinking of all the times you reassured her of the contrary.</p><p class="p1">You wince, realizing now what a mistake that’d been. “I know. But can you blame me for lying? I never wanted to blow up your relationship, never wanted to ruin things, so I just kept it to myself. I never acted on my feel—,” you catch yourself, weighing the options of what you want to do next. There’s really no need to take this dig at her, no reason she should have this information. But you know if it was the other way around, you would want to be told. You shoot her an apologetic face, and keep your voice soft, “Well, I did. Only once. And I—,” you take a side glance at the man beside you, and amend once again, “<em>we</em>, are so sorry about that.”</p><p class="p1">The subtle phrasing is not lost on her.</p><p class="p1">“You did what?” Mimi growls right to Jaehyun, bypassing you completely.</p><p class="p1">To his credit, he takes the brunt of the blame and hangs his head in repentance, atoning instantly, “Mi, you deserve a groveling apology, me on my knees, whatever you want, but there’s no time for that right now. It happened the night before my birthday. I’m sorry to say this so bluntly but I was going to break up with you before the party. I was going to break up with you a hundred different times, the first week we started dating, when y/n got back, at the party, after our ceremony.”</p><p class="p1">“Jesus, Jaehyun, okay,” she grimaces, his words coming off harsher than he intends. “I get it, you hate me.”</p><p class="p1">But it’s necessary context for the rest of the story he’s queuing up to follow. First, he placates her, “No, I don’t hate you. In any other situation without her I would’ve given you a fair shot.” Then he sighs, resigned and tired, “But each time I tried to follow my heart, my dad came to me and threatened me, saying if I did not keep dating you he would have y/n killed.”</p><p class="p1">“What?” she gasps, eyes immediately darting to you for confirmation as a hand flies to cover her mouth. Here is a moment you wish you were friends, so you could commiserate over the awful revelation together.</p><p class="p1">Except all you can do is also sigh sadly and confirm, “I have the proof, if you need to see it, but it’s true.”</p><p class="p1">“Listen to me,” Jaehyun snags her attention again, losing all anger for urgency, “he said that our relationship was agreed upon to secure my place in Neozone through you.”</p><p class="p1">Mimi thinks for a second, then breathes in wonder, “The steel mill.”</p><p class="p1">You nod in blank disbelief that you haven’t thought of this before. Her father’s business has always been an interest of Mr. Jung’s, how many times did Jaehyun tell you that their families had dinner together and discussed such matters. All your questions aren’t answered by this, yet it’s a piece that has been hiding in plain view.</p><p class="p1">She addresses you and you only, “Y/n, I’m being totally honest with you now. I don’t know why they did that. Daddy has not allowed us to come to the factory for years now. But if you are looking for something, it must be there.” She hesitates, then magnanimously offers, “I can ask around discreetly for you. Um, Joy also has been mentioning how Doyoung has seen Daddy around the station more often lately. I can talk to her, too.”</p><p class="p1">It is extremely generous of her to go out of her way for you, especially considering the nuclear bomb of heartbreak you’ve just dropped on her.</p><p class="p1">“Mi, I. Thank you,” Jaehyun expresses his gratitude to his ex-girlfriend sincerely, fingers idly toying against the rim of the crystal vase in front of him.</p><p class="p1">While it’s a relatively unintended mistake for him to make, it is probably the most damning one. It’s obvious Mimi had written the blooms off as nothing but decoration, lost in the screaming match she’d been caught up in. She surely recognizes the reused vase - but something about his casual, tender gesture is enough to clue her in. You watch her eyes flutter closed in resigned recognition of what it means.</p><p class="p1">“Mimi,” you call to her softly, girl to girl, as the seventeen year olds who went to prom in the same group. “We were friends once, so you deserve honesty. We did not have a blossom ceremony, but our flowers did bloom for each other. Sorry.” When she opens her eyes to look at you, they’re glassy and full of mourning, and you know exactly how that feels, “I mean, if I were you, I would never accept an apology. But I am. So, so sorry.”</p><p class="p1"><em>Sorry</em> is not a salve decent enough to heal all wounds, and Jaehyun has to do a lifetime’s worth of work in reparation, but you cannot regret any of the events that transpired.</p><p class="p1">“Right,” she bites out sharply, a tear or two slipping past her stoic facade. But she soldiers on nevertheless, “I’ll let you know if I hear anything, y/n.” Her phrasing is obvious, pointed omission of Jaehyun not lost on you.</p><p class="p1">Without a second glance back at you two together, she rushes right out of his house.</p><p class="p1">No sooner is the door slammed shut than he lets out a pained sigh, running his hands through his hair and admitting, “That was shitty. I’m such an asshole.”</p><p class="p1">You’d have to agree with him on that one, but you don’t want to sully this day even further by picking your own fight. You choose to go another route, looking around the space and asking, “Where’s M?”</p><p class="p1">“He and his mom are napping in the guest room.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, they should be safe to come home when they wake up,” you say absentmindedly. When you catch his brow furrowing in confusion, you realize you have yet to explain. You lean into the side of his table and force it out, “Got the soldiers called off. Car comes tomorrow morning.”</p><p class="p1">His eyelids meander shut as he curses darkly, “Shit.”</p><p class="p1">It’s an odd slice of a moment you want to freeze forever, but there’s something about the image of him there, eyes closed, lashes smoothed out against his cheeks, pink lips moving in silent thought. You know you need to have a talk about this, what’s happened with Mimi, the potential ramifications of what this means, a game plan, a contingency strategy. But you don’t want to do that right now. Perhaps you’re so incredibly inclined to find him handsome all the time, so enraptured by him that you can’t imagine wanting to do anything but bask in his presence. But you just want to spend time with your husband. That’s it.</p><p class="p1">You let a silly little smile cross your face, and then you tangle your fingers with his, beckoning, “Come on.”</p><p class="p1">“Where are you taking me, Mrs. Jung?” he asks softly, willingly following you wherever you’ll take him, no longer upset by his silent thoughts.</p><p class="p1">“Home,” you answer simply, drawing out a sunny, genuine smile from the man holding your hand.</p><p class="p1">You’re not entirely sure you don’t have a moony smile on your face as you walk back across the plaza hand in hand with Jaehyun. It’s a funny back and forth, going from one house to another, not particularly necessary when you both feel comfortable in each residence. But there’s one place you want to see him in. No, that you deserve to.</p><p class="p1">A full twinge of your heart is plucked out of you when Jaehyun flops across the grey comforter covering your bed, his curly locks going everywhere in a charming halo. He grins up to where you’re standing above him and jokes, “It’s been a while since I’ve been in here, huh?”</p><p class="p1">It’s a lovesick image, him here in your bed, carefree and happy. And that’s what you tell him, “I don’t let just anyone up here, you know.”</p><p class="p1">He stretches his body out and saucily whines, “Yeah, only your favorite, hottest, best husband everrrrrrrr.”</p><p class="p1">“You really are so fucking cheesy, huh?” you tease him, meandering both your hands through his soft hair. You smooth out a flyaway strand, then quietly admit, “I didn’t know this was what I was going to get.” You’ve never really contemplated what Jaehyun would be as a boyfriend, as a husband, and this is what you’ve received. A boy who can’t stop being utterly loving to you every chance he gets.</p><p class="p1">As if he’s proving your point, he gently snags one of your hands and kisses it, then tugs you back onto the bed. “Come here for a second,” he murmurs, settling you into his lap the exact same way he had that night. Because he’s finally free to do so, Jaehyun wastes no time kissing you, brazenly opening his mouth under yours right away, brushing his tongue against yours in a very indecent manner.He trades those kisses for sweeter ones, tiny dots of devotion pressed upon your lips, and he pulls back for a moment to stare at you in wonder. He smiles sheepishly, then asks, “I can’t believe I’ve had to do this twice in one week, but is there any way I can get you not to go?”</p><p class="p1">You clutch onto his shoulders and shake your head, “No. This is Michael, and you know who he is to me.”</p><p class="p1">“I know. I wish he was my dad,” he confesses, truly, truly sad that he has to.</p><p class="p1">Just the tangential mention of his father already has your neck prickling with anxiety. You cup his face, pressing the most tender kiss you can against his mouth, then you whisper, “Jae. You know they. Uh. The moment I get there they’re going to try and dissolve our marriage.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t care.”</p><p class="p1">“What? You don’t care about our marriage—,”</p><p class="p1">“I care, of course I care,” he amends his flippant statement. “But it doesn’t matter if we’re married or not, together or not, you are my true love. And I’m yours. Do whatever you need to. Nobody can change that, not Mimi, not my dad, the Premier, even your ex whatever he was.”</p><p class="p1">Really, your whole heart is his, forever.</p><p class="p1">Him mentioning Kyungsoo has sort of ruined the moment, though. You feel your shoulders deflate as you contemplate what it will be like to return to the capital and see him again.</p><p class="p1">It’s hard for you to even find the words to voice your fears, “Seeing Kyungsoo is going to be so…. I don’t even know. Just talking to him on the phone today was so, so bad.” You sigh, and quietly acknowledge, “I understand you probably don’t want to hear this, but he was just… a huge part of my life.”</p><p class="p1">You feel his hands tense against your waist, and you try to shimmy off him to give him some space. But that only spurs him on to hold you as tightly as he can, nose slipping by yours as he takes his sweet time to kiss you once more. In a surprising turn, he concedes, “I get it. Because he was there during that week, right?”</p><p class="p1">You’d nearly forgotten you’d thrown Kyungsoo’s presence there in his face as your final, aggressive jab before you left for Elyxion. And it’s even more surprising to you that it seems like Jaehyun has come to terms with whatever well of feeling you still hold for the other man.</p><p class="p1">“Right,” you admit, wanting to tell him the rest of the story, “there was more, though. His fiancee died in the XM bombing.” Jaehyun coughs in surprise, eyes going wide at the unsuspecting information, and you continue on, wistful, “So he didn’t just know what I’d went through in losing someone, he knew what it felt like to not be able to be with the person you loved. It felt like the perfect answer, our seeds would never blossom, why not spend a lifetime with someone who understood?”</p><p class="p1">That had been the exact reason the two of you sat on the front step of Baekhyun’s lake house and buried your flower seeds together. It was the sad knot on the final stitch sewing you together, accepting that for whatever horrid reason the universe had decided, you would not get to see your flowers blossom.</p><p class="p1">“But you have to know, I only was going to marry him because in Elyxion, you get a stipend from the Regent’s office upon registering a marriage. And Exordium needed money.”</p><p class="p1">This is the moment Jaehyun chooses to let the first dregs of worry and trepidation cross his face, wrinkles at the corner of his eyes deepening as he frowns, then probes, “Not because you loved him?”</p><p class="p1">You’re forced to confront the bald truth with his honest question. Have you, did you, was there ever a point in time where you allowed yourself to experience a full chest of love for Kyungsoo? The only person, at that time, who you felt could ever understand you? Who played a bigger role than any doctor in his efforts to heal the damaged you that emerged from the Pandora Building? Of course you did, you’d be heartless if you didn’t.Jaehyun’s words from this morning ring ironically true right now, <em>in any other situation without her I would’ve given you a fair shot. </em></p><p class="p1">You smile morosely as you confess, “I mean, I think I did—, do love him, in a way. But it’s not the same.”</p><p class="p1"><em>It’s not the same way that I love you</em> does not have to be clarified, the relieved little quirk of his lip that you see is enough.</p><p class="p1">“But for him?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s followup question makes you pause. You’re not going to lie about it, there’s no reason to do so anymore, but you haven’t really contemplated the other side of this coin. Ever since Kyungsoo whispered that sentiment to you in his hotel room, the beat of your heart when it came to him was wildly out of tune, like it was set off kilter by him expressing that.</p><p class="p1">“He said it to me the last time we saw each other,” you tell him honestly, but continue on before he can react in an <em>I told you so </em>manner, “which means something is wrong. He never said that. He used to call me his not-girlfriend and say <em>I opposite of hate you.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Feelings or not, it was Kyungsoo who imposed those rules in the first place, and had only bent them once, in the noble effort to fool his would-be in-laws.</p><p class="p1">“Or he could just actually be in love with you. It’s not that hard to imagine,” Jaehyun points out sheepishly, knowing exactly how everyone’s acted around you these past few years.</p><p class="p1">Finally framing everything in the context of what you know now, you’re starting to see the situation with more clarity. “Let me ask you something. Was there, in our time apart, ever a moment for you where you just knew you’d never love anyone else?”</p><p class="p1">“Well, like, I’ve already told you you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”</p><p class="p1">“No, I.” You sigh, thinking of how you want to explain this theory you have. You sit back on his legs so you can look right into his eyes, to take one of his hands in both of yours, and say, “Okay, when I told you about my broken hand, and you kissed it in the middle of your kitchen, it was just fact to me. That I would be stuck loving an unavailable you for the rest of my life. He was weeks away from marrying someone he loved with his whole being when she <em>died.</em>”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I just know I’m never going to have someone in my heart like that again.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is not the kind of flippant person to toss around a nonchalant <em>I love you.</em> The way he talked about Luna when you asked, like he could go on and on for a thousand lifetimes and only have beautiful things to say about the kind of person she was, was enough of a clue. But it’s more than that, it’s how he’s still connected so deeply to her parents, your realization that every time he reacted to you wearing gold is because her favorite color was yellow. The fact that he had been so steadfast in his disdain for a blossom ceremony because she was from Elyxion. And while the possibility existed, to find a companion to spend his life with after her tragic departure, you know for a fact he had the kind of love for her that would never allow him to love someone else again.</p><p class="p1">Your vision is getting misty as you imagine what would’ve happened if the situations were reversed, and you grip onto Jaehyun’s hand so, so tightly. “Death is an impossible situation to compare to what happened to us, but they’re different shades of the same sensation. Kyungsoo and I both tried to ignore that fate by being with each other, and still, look where I ended up.” You softly shake your intertwined hands, eliciting a small, sad laugh from him. You push back his hair, fingers ghosting over his face, and finish off your thought, “So for him to say <em>I love you</em> to me, does not feel like it’s just Kyungsoo moving on. Does that make sense?”</p><p class="p1">You don’t have any further explanation as to <em>why</em>, but you’re pretty convinced this is what’s happening.</p><p class="p1">“He did seem off,” Jaehyun concedes, allowing himself to think rationally about the situation for once. “Like, way more rigid than he ever was around you.”</p><p class="p1">The same skitter of goosebumps across your neck returns, in a severe flinch of discomfort. You sigh and lament, “Yeah, which is why this is going to be bad. If I can’t figure out what’s going on, this might ruin him.” Kyungsoo had saved you once before. It is now on you to return the important favor. You cannot let him be ruined by the machinations of whatever’s happening in the capital. That’s the kind of love and respect you still hold for him.</p><p class="p1">“That moment you were talking about?” Jaehyun idly murmurs, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I did have one.”</p><p class="p1">“You did?” you ask, bashful and surprised.</p><p class="p1">He closes his eyes and leans back against the headboard of your bed, conjuring up the image, and his tone comes out in a gravelly whisper, “When you showed up to Sun &amp; Moon that night, the prettiest girl in the world, maybe ever.” His amber eyes open to twinkle at you, as his fingers dance across your collarbone first, then the strands of your ponytail, “You wore that dress. Had your hair down. I was yours forever.”</p><p class="p1">He’s right, he’s always right. You’re his true love and he’s yours. Nothing will ever change that.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” you croak, heart dammed in your throat, “I love you.”</p><p class="p1">His mouth goes crooked when he smiles at you, heart stopping and wondrous, and he shrugs, “So yeah, it doesn’t matter to me if they dissolve our marriage. I’d marry you a thousand times if I had to. Something tells me you want a fancy wedding, anyways.”</p><p class="p1">Sure, it’d be fun to get all dolled up and throw one of the city’s biggest events. It’s only what every girl would want, especially considering how farcical the circumstances leading to your first marriage were. But that’s not exactly what you want, and you deny his thought, “No, not a fancy one.”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, fancy might not’ve been the right word to use,” he corrects himself with a chuckle. “Something nicer than a Ministry wedding. A homemade dress, honeysuckle and stellaria everywhere, everyone there, your parents, John when he’s awake, Yu and his girl, Michael, Mark. And a proper little thing for the kid.”</p><p class="p1">You’re always right, too. Once, you’d thought that Jaehyun was placed here to know every bit of you, and you’ve only ever been proven right about that.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” you whisper, teary-eyed and mush in his arms. “Yeah, that’s what I want.”</p><p class="p1">When he closes his eyes to think again, you reach over to your bedside table where your open sewing kit is laying discarded. You snatch up an errant piece of golden thread, freed from the spool. Very carefully, even though you could never break his strong hand, you take the left one in yours and loop the thread around his fourth finger once, tying it off in a cheery little bow. It’s the most temporary and makeshift ring you can think of, but the way he smiles in delight at the sight of it fills you with unbridled warmth.</p><p class="p1">He pushes back the hair fallen into your face, grasping your cheek to bring you back down and kiss you, the action imbued with nothing but the elation of true love, and he takes the briefest of pauses to murmur against your mouth, “When you get back, that’s what we’ll do, okay?”</p><p class="p1">“Promise?”</p><p class="p1">“I do.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The sun is already dipping low into the sky when you emerge from your room later in the day, flooding the living room with a gorgeous palette of rose and orange from the brilliant sunset. You pause at the landing of your stairs to soak it all in, then you hear the soft call from below, “Sweet pea, come sit with us for a minute.”</p><p class="p1">You glance down to see your parents there on the couch, your mother with a swath of navy fabric draped over her legs as she sews, your father with a beer in hand as he relaxes. Your cheeks start to burn with fiery hotness when your dad leans back to see you, but more than that, see who’s just emerged from your room with you. He greets him saucily, “Ah, good evening, Mr. Jung. Will you come back over for drinks after dinner?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun goes a ruddy, ruddy red in his bashfulness, but he accepts the request, “Will do, sir,” before kissing you on the cheek and running back over to his house so he can check on your friend.</p><p class="p1">Hyungsik and Suho are still with the lawyers downtown, they’d called to say they were still working on getting some things wrapped up. So now you have a slice of privacy to cherish with your parents, one you haven’t had in any of the time since you’ve been reunited. You allow yourself to revert back into the headspace of child you, and go clambering onto the couch right next to your mother, tucking yourself into her side like you’re a baby.</p><p class="p1">“What are you working on?” you ask.</p><p class="p1">You can see a bit better now, the navy fabric slashed with seemingly random bars of geometric gold. You can’t figure out what the pattern is, but it’s pretty nonetheless. At least it’s not another Elyxion flag passed off as a quilt, you think wryly.</p><p class="p1">“Just something to calm my nerves, pass the time, you know?” she answers.</p><p class="p1">“Give me a needle, I’ll help.”</p><p class="p1">She hands over the silver tool, threaded with the same gold wisps she’s already using, and you settle in for the first time in a long time, to sew with your mother. It’s peacefully calm in your living room then, no sounds except for the rustle of silk and the clink of your father’s beer bottle. You follow her lead, putting in the aimless gold bars here and there across the length of the fabric, savoring these dregs of normalcy that are about to be snatched from you.</p><p class="p1">“So,” your father ventures, after you have about ten golden dashes embroidered on the fabric, “your flower seed?”</p><p class="p1">“I know. I couldn’t believe it,” you crow, still shy thinking about it even now, keeping your eye on aligning this next rectangle of thread to not expose your embarrassment even more.</p><p class="p1">“What is it? Is it a bluebell like mine?”</p><p class="p1">At your father’s words, both you and your mother look up from your sewing at the same time. You’d thought they’d already talked about this, but her softly whispered <em>Honey</em>... means that he’s never told her the identity of his un-blossomed seed. There is nothing more serendipitous than this revelation, that this Neozone man’s flower had been the exact species of flora that decorated his wife’s hometown in Elyxion. No wonder he’d always taken special care to water the flowers at your old home.</p><p class="p1">“Dad, that’s what yours is?” Your voice cracks with the emotions of the moment, and again when you look up to see how glossy his eyes get in return. “You see the white flowers that are all over my backyard? They’re called stellaria. That’s what my flower is.” Together, all three of you peer through your window wall, out into the blanket of ivory that’s still shimmering in the fading autumn sun.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, y/n,” your mom breathes out, “that’s perfect.”</p><p class="p1">You suppose you’ll always have a permanent blush on when talking about Jaehyun, as you tell your parents, “And his is honeysuckle.”</p><p class="p1">You’re marinating in the image of perfection you have right now - the green, green grass, the proud river, your beautiful flowers, set against the backdrop of your father’s contemplative words, “You know, when he volunteered to help you by getting married, I really didn’t get why, because it seemed like you wanted it to be anyone other than him. But when he asked us to come over yesterday, it all kind of made sense.”</p><p class="p1">“Really?”</p><p class="p1">“You two bet on baseball together, sweet pea,” your mother says knowingly, “you were meant for each other.”</p><p class="p1">He’d had to tell them about your bet to explain why he was asking for help with sewing. It could’ve come across as just friendly banter, or neighbors sharing a similar hobby. But your parents, being your parents, saw right through it all. Through he fact he’d made the bet to cheer you up in the first place, that he’d conceded a loss just to make you feel better. That watching baseball with Jaehyun during the depths of your despair was the only thing to make you feel alive again.</p><p class="p1">“I think…” You set down your sewing, unable to hold back the girlish delight that bubbles out of you, “that when I get back, we’re going to have an actual wedding.”</p><p class="p1">Your parents look at each other in surprise, crossed with joy, that instantly dissipates when your mother carefully asks, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay going to the capital alone?”</p><p class="p1">You’re not okay with it. You’ve spent the past day since giving yourself up in wild denial of what you’re going to be faced with, and you admit as much, “No. But I have to go.” They have to understand this is not you being frivolous, it is perhaps the most serious thing you have ever needed to do. “It’s Michael, and I don’t mean this in a way to belittle you, because I feel like I truly understand what you’ve done for me. But he means as much to me as you do. And this is our only shot.”</p><p class="p1">Michael is your parent as much as they are, and it would be incredibly unbecoming of you to just let him be.</p><p class="p1">“I meant what I said before. If you die, I would die too,” your mother mutters, dark, as she stabs her needle right into the fabric.</p><p class="p1">“Mom—,”</p><p class="p1">She cuts you off, pleading and desperate, tears already leaking from her eyes, “It’s manipulative, I get it, but I already had to watch from afar once. I’m not sure I could do it again.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s not like I asked for what happened last time,” you point out, knowing that she’s seeing you as a defiant child right now and not much more.</p><p class="p1">“No, but you are asking for it now.” She’s right with her motherly instincts, you are begging for a fight from them for a reason you can’t pinpoint. You grit your teeth to keep sewing, intending to keep active to not escalate this fight. Her impassioned monologue hits you with brute force, “Listen to me, you’re not a soldier. You’re not a savior. You’re my daughter, you’re just a girl from Tactix who sews. Do not let them make you into something you’re not. Especially a martyr.”</p><p class="p1">Jeno was already an unknowing martyr lost in this turmoil, steadfast in holding onto his goodness until the very end. It’s impossible to look at this without picturing him. You peek over at your father, head hung low as he fiddles with his beer bottle, and look back to your mother, eyes silently imploring you. You have to be incredibly precise in how you go about this, for your parents, and especially for Michael. If he had to watch another of his children die, he would die, too.</p><p class="p1">“Okay. Yeah,” you cede, reaching for her hand over your discarded sewing as you sniffle. “Yeah, Momma, of course.”</p><p class="p1">Though she doesn’t look relieved — you know she won’t feel that emotion again until you return from the capital — she at least appears convinced you will not be reckless with your actions.</p><p class="p1">The silence is shattered by the pixelated ring of your intercom, signaling a visitor at the gate that does not have the newly-changed code. </p><p class="p1">“I’ll get it,” you father offers, leaving you to lean back into your mother’s side in a comforting embrace. You don’t think much of it, people come and go up here all the time, but the moment he forgoes your nickname for your given name, you know something is wrong, “Sw— y/n, do you know who that is?”</p><p class="p1">You dart up from the couch to go over and peek through the opening of your blinds. And when you see who it is, someone you indeed do know, you almost fall right to the damn floor.</p><p class="p1">“What the hell—,” you mutter, taken aback by the presence of the surprise guest. “I’ll be right back.”</p><p class="p1">With no explanation, you throw the front door open and go jogging off your porch right towards the buzzing hum of the electric fence. From the inside, you punch the button to deactivate the voltage, and unlock the gate to let the visitor inside. You don’t even have the ability to act with propriety this is so shocking. You end up blurting, “Mrs. Jung? Is everything okay? Did Jaehyun not answer the gate alert?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s mother is there in front of you, prim and proper in her Armani blouse and skirt, not a hair out of place in her elegant French twist. Beyond the fact that it is so strange to see her willingly up here, is that he didn’t answer the gate for her like he always does when his family visits. You watched him walk back over to his house, there’s no reason he should’ve missed the shrill notification.</p><p class="p1">You’re a second away from letting the worry thunder into your mind when she shakes her head and says, “I didn’t alert him.”</p><p class="p1">You choke on your response, not expecting that at all, “Wait, what? You meant to alert <em>me</em>?”</p><p class="p1">She nods. “Yes.”</p><p class="p1">What in the fuck are you supposed to do right now.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, okay. W-would you like to come in, then?” you stumble over your words whilst trying to gather yourself into politeness.</p><p class="p1">“Sure.”</p><p class="p1">It’s not lost on you that though you’ve known her son for many years at this point, Jaehyun’s mother has never stepped foot in your home before this. Suddenly, you’re thinking of the chaos of beer bottles that are strewn around the place, the clothes and belongings scattered everywhere that people couldn’t take with them, how she’s going to walk in and find it all an abhorrent disaster.</p><p class="p1">As expected, when you walk in behind her and gauge her reaction, her nose is wrinkled at the mess. But there’s no taking it back now. Incredibly nervous, you hold out a hand to introduce, “Um, Mrs. Jung, these are my parents. Mom, Dad, this is Jaehyun’s mother.” Your dad, bless his heart, goes comically pale at her arrival, while your mother’s eyes bug right out of her head. You know what they’re thinking, <em>how can this lady be married to someone as awful as Jefferson Jung</em>, but they are also way too polite to vocalize that.</p><p class="p1">“It’s very lovely to meet you,” she greets, demure and ladylike as you know her to be. “Would you mind if I talked to your daughter alone for a minute?”</p><p class="p1">Your father’s stare darts in your direction, and you nod subtly. They’ll go right to Jaehyun’s and get him to rescue you, you won’t be here alone with her for more than five minutes. “Sure,” he accepts, before taking your mom by the hand, sewing still in her clutches, and ushering her out the front door.</p><p class="p1">Then, you’re alone with Mrs. Jung.</p><p class="p1">You’ve never looked at her this closely, and in this much precision, able to pinpoint all of her son’s features in her face — the dimple in the left side of her cheek, the brown-gold of her eyes, the slight curl to her swept back locks. It’s a surprise to you, to realize that’s he’s spun almost completely out of her, you can’t pick a single thing of his father’s out of him.</p><p class="p1">“A really interesting thing happened to me,” she starts, casual, careful. “I was out of the country visiting my sister in Korea, and I get a call from my husband saying my Jaehyun was <em>married.</em>” You grimace, but she doesn’t notice, continuing on with her tale,<em> “</em>I get on an early plane home, pleased as a mother could be to think that perhaps his failed blossom ceremony was a mistake. Only to find my husband in a rage because Jaehyun has somehow married Vice Premier Lee’s foster daughter.”</p><p class="p1">Her phrasing has you instantly on the defensive, not appreciating at all the way <em>Vice Premier Lee’s foster daughter </em>had a certain bite to it. You get it, she would’ve liked to come home and see her son together with Mimi, the woman who is most similar to her in her elegance and propriety. But well, sometimes, life doesn’t work in that way.</p><p class="p1">“So you came up all the way here to what?” you ask, full of sarcasm. “Yell at me? Beg me to divorce him?”</p><p class="p1">“No. I came to finally do the right thing, meet the girl my only son loves.”</p><p class="p1">You start to go lightheaded almost immediately, not ready for that turn. “What?” your mouth moves of its own accord, “B-but. We’ve met before.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no sting in her face as her features - his features - soften into a smile. “I’ve met the girl who played with my son and his friends as they grew up. But I have not met the woman my son would go to war with his father for.” You must show your surprise, because the sadness creeps up into her smile, “My husband’s behavior never did make sense to me, but I’ve never seen him and my son fight like that before. That blowout was so spectacular Jefferson left for the capital without us.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even really need to ask Jaehyun about what this fight had entailed, because you already have an idea. And it’s clear she has none, so you must say it carefully, “Ma’am, I think he hates me because I am from Elyxion.”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">Uh oh. She lowers herself onto the nearest barstool at your statement, and you have to give her the brutal details, “My mother is from Tactix. He, um, on numerous occasions, has used the term <em>Elyxion bitch</em> to describe me.”</p><p class="p1">You’re prepared for a tongue lashing, that’s she’s going to berate you for daring to say a word against her precious husband. Or worse, that she’ll agree and actually start demanding you divorce her son because she cannot have her bloodline sullied like this. But you should know better than to expect anything normal.</p><p class="p1">“My husband is from Wolf Way,” she murmurs, eyes closed in horror.</p><p class="p1">There are twin echoes of disbelief in response, “I’m sorry, what?”, followed by, “Mom?”</p><p class="p1">“Jaejae.”</p><p class="p1">You turn to see Jaehyun there in your doorway, come to rescue you as expected. Only his lips are parted in shock, having just heard the last sentence his mother uttered.</p><p class="p1">“I-is that true?” he stutters. “Is Dad really from Elyxion?”</p><p class="p1">A stunning tear cascades out of her eye, in tune with her aura, and she shakily whispers, “Yes.” Jaehyun’s horrified exhale nearly drowns out her explanation, “He was born in Wolf Way, and came here with his family during middle school, back when people could more freely go back and forth between regions. To this day, I don’t know how he had his tansy seed for our blossom ceremony, but nobody would’ve ever suspected he wasn’t from Neozone. I only found out because he confessed it while drunk right before we were about to get married, and he never brought it back up again.”</p><p class="p1"><em>I don’t know how he had his tansy seed.</em> The terror starts to lick at the back of your neck, realizing you’ve been playing an entirely different ballgame this whole time.</p><p class="p1">“Ma’am, did someone you know get taken in The Night of Darkness?” you ask delicately, not wanting to distress her further, but needing to know this information.</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” she confirms, saddened beyond belief. “His family’s old maid they brought from Elyxion, Sunny.”</p><p class="p1">You stagger back in disbelief just as Jaehyun steps forward, your sides catching each other in a collision. His fingers seize across your arm where he’s grabbed it to steady himself, but his voice is certainly not steady at all, “Wait, what? I thought Grandfather just fired her.”</p><p class="p1">Her eyes meet his matching ones, and she only whispers, “Jaejae.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh fuck, Mom,” Jaehyun swears, unable to muffle the sobs that erupt from him right away. “Fuck.”</p><p class="p1">You gently lift his arm around your shoulders, wrapping your hand around his waist so he’s propped up on you. You feel the slight blow of his breath as he cries into your hair, and you take over the questioning on his behalf,“What did you mean <em>nobody would’ve ever suspected</em>?”</p><p class="p1">“Exactly what it means,” Mrs. Jung says grimly. “He never told anyone, not through high school, college, through any of his adult life. Even in school, he and Kyungho were very…. <em>vocal</em> about how they hated Elyxion. Looking back, I guess it was a defense mechanism to try and fit in. But I had no idea he still felt that way.”</p><p class="p1">That….. you’re sad to say it, but that actually makes a lot of sense.</p><p class="p1">“W-wait,” Jaehyun stutters, nose brushing against your temple, “why did you bring up The Night of Darkness?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, I don’t know if Mark’s mom told everyone or just Kyungah—,” you start.</p><p class="p1">“Jeongah was taken, too?” Mrs. Jung asks in disbelief. “I thought she and Michael just separated!”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even move your head, you just dip your eyelids in affirmation. Her pained exhale comes out, but you turn your attention to your husband, “Remember when we were at the Ministry, and Minister Lee mentioned off hand that it was all the rage to steal flower seeds from his office?” That’s enough information for them to piece it together, but you’ll say it for clarity’s sake, “The people who were taken that night were caught on security footage stealing flower seeds. Mark’s mom is from Oasis. And I met someone named Sunny there at the mansion.”</p><p class="p1">She had been wearing an apron patterned in lion print, the sigil that's represented the Jung family for generations. No wonder she had recognized Mark right away, hadn’t said a single word to the military leaders about Johnny disappearing from his room. Mrs. Lee was there, yes. She could’ve pointed Mark out each time he was on a news broadcast, told stories about him growing up with Johnny. But Sunny knew them even before that - from each of the hundred other times Mark had been in Jaehyun’s childhood photos. She must’ve stolen the tansy seed for Mr. Jung, to seal the deal on his ruse.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” Mrs. Jung gasps, horrifying realization manifesting in her brain. “Jefferson’s friend group in college was him, the senior John, Kyungho, and Boyoung Kim.”</p><p class="p1">“Doyoung’s dad?” Jaehyun head snaps back in confusion, before it dawns on him, “Who owns… the broadcast station.”</p><p class="p1">Boyoung Kim’s son had accidentally spilled some confirmatory proof that he’d played a role in this. Michael had said it himself, there was never anything in the security footage about his wife’s disappearance. But after you’d gotten the original tapes from Doyoung, they’d said something else entirely. You can only imagine, if you look through the tapes from Jaehyun’s grandfather’s residence, you’ll find some discrepancies there too. This is far more convoluted than you ever could’ve imagined.</p><p class="p1">“Did my husband…” She looks desperately between the two of you, then settles on you to wonder at, “Did he do all of this?” You don’t have any sort of concrete response to give her. She adds on more fiercely, “I will do anything to protect my child. Absolutely anything, you have to get that. Please tell me.”</p><p class="p1">It’s an attitude that any parent would take - you’ve seen it reflected in your parents’s actions, in Michael’s. Her spouse has taken it before, too. You’re forced to hope she’ll never follow along the same literal path that he did.</p><p class="p1">“Ma’am, I don’t know yet,” you concede, hoping that moving past the topic of her husband will get her to calm down.“Do you know anything about Siwon Choi, or Taeyeon Kim?”</p><p class="p1">“Siwon Choi, the news reporter?” she clarifies, unsure of how he fits into this. She rubs a hand against her forehead, thinking, before answering, “No, I don’t… I’m not sure. He did go to Neozone U. Could’ve overlapped with Jefferson and the boys, I think.”</p><p class="p1">“Ma’am—,”</p><p class="p1">She holds up a trembling hand and requests, “Please, don’t call me ma’am. Or Mrs. Jung. I’m just Jaekyung.”</p><p class="p1">It’s an extremely vulnerable admission from this put-together woman. She’s not offering this up because you’ve become some sort of ideal daughter-in-law that she’s bestowing the honor upon. In fact, it’s the opposite. You’ve just stripped her of an identity that she’s held onto for so long, you can tell she’s floundering, trying to figure out what to do.</p><p class="p1">You’ll help her out as best as you can, by following her order, “Jaekyung. I’m sorry.” You laugh lightly, trying to improve a mood that will be impossible to liven, “I do not really know how to be someone’s daughter-in-law.”</p><p class="p1">She’s had Mimi to play this role for years now, to chat with her over tea and haute couture magazines, to primp and gossip and laugh about a thousand different, girly things. Which, fine, you can do that too; there’s nothing wrong with any of that. In fact, you like doing that stuff. But you have no practice doing it. It’s not like you were really able to do so with Michael. And you don’t want to disappoint her.</p><p class="p1">Though you register Jaehyun’s faint chuckle, Jaekyung’s face is lost in the depths of her turmoil as she mumbles, “I suppose that doesn’t really matter. There’s only so much talking about fashion and nonsense things like that can do for us.” She glances back at you, you with her son, and apologizes in hushed grief, “I’m sorry to have ruined your night like this. I truly did not mean to.”</p><p class="p1">“W-would you like to stay for drinks?” The offer from your mouth comes out of nowhere, surprising everyone in the room, including yourself. “We were planning to have a small get together.”</p><p class="p1">She tries to wipe at her tears, to braid herself back up into the untouchable, chic woman she is, and manages to control her emotions enough to smoothly ask, “Celebrating something?”</p><p class="p1">It’s your farewell, but you certainly can’t tell her that. But before you have a chance to contemplate a further lie, Jaehyun bestows her with the beautiful truth, “Our flowers blossomed, Mama.”</p><p class="p1">You curl yourself into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as he anchors his grip onto your arm, unwilling to be separated from you. When you peek up at him, you can’t help the wistful grin that paints its way onto your mouth, because he’s already gazing down at you. You feel so, so bad for him - tonight’s revelations would break anyone apart from the soul outwards. You’ll hold him tonight all he needs.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, Jaejae,” Jaekyung sighs, eyes again filling with tears. She’s obviously keening to burst out in delight, but is bogged down heavily by everything you’ve just been discussing. “Does your father know?”</p><p class="p1">His smile dissipates, and all that emerges is a flat, “No.”</p><p class="p1">“Well then,” she says stiffly, before getting up from her stool and brushing off her skirt. She stares at the two of you together for a second, a million different emotions flitting over her face. Finally, it floods with tentative, yet motherly warmth, “I will just have to give your wife enough love on my own.”</p><p class="p1">When she hugs you, you can’t help but think that being a daughter-in-law won’t be so hard, after all.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The stellaria newly resting on the smooth marble sways in the wind when you hear it, “He’d call you an idiot for doing this, you know that, right?”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes flutter open as an amused chuckle escapes your lips, a contrast to the lone, salty tear that drips on your cheek. It’s not quite a dagger to the heart to see the looping script spelling out <em>Jeno Lee </em>in front of you. It aches, no doubt it will always be painful, but it doesn’t feel like the acute stab of a sword anymore.</p><p class="p1">“No, he’d be on my side,” you rebut Mark’s joke, knowing exactly how Jeno was your steadfast ally against Kyungsoo every time you’d argued. And how he’d want to save his dad no matter what. You take your best friend’s hand, and ask, “How’d you know I’d be here?”</p><p class="p1">He comes across the same way you’re feeling - just a smidgen less sorrowful than usual, his blonde hair sparkling brightly in the sun, tiny grin tugging at his lips, “Happy coincidence. Mom wanted to come see him.”</p><p class="p1">You look behind him, to where Mrs. Lee is standing at a respectful distance, shoulders hunched in preparation for what she’s about to do. If seeing Jeno’s gravestone for the first time was one of the worst things you’ve ever been through, it’ll be an infinity’s worth more devastating for her.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll go so you can have some privacy,” you offer. But when you try to remove yourself from his hold, Mark hangs on. “This is the first time, bumble,” you hate you have to remind him of it, “you have to be alone.”</p><p class="p1">But he shakes his head, remaining steadfast in his desire to keep you there, so you gently gather him up and walk the few feet over to where his mother is. She feels like a stranger and fourth parent to you all at once. You feel horrible that your life has been so chaotic you haven’t been able to sit down and have a proper conversation with her. But before you go, you at least have to try.</p><p class="p1">“Mrs. Lee, I am so sorry we haven’t had much time to talk. Are you doing alright?”</p><p class="p1">She’s drowning in one of Mark’s old sweaters, aged with grief and anguish and everything in between. She doesn’t try to put up a front in her response, “No, sweet girl. But I’ll be better after I see my baby.” She glances away from the gravestone, to stare at you with such undiluted gratitude that it nearly sends you careening into Mark’s arms. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”</p><p class="p1">You’re bursting at the seams to get her to understand what her family means to you, all of it coming out in a hurricane of affection, “I love my parents. I love them a lot. But Michael did everything for me, and I wasn’t even his.” You reach out to hold her hand as well, the three of you knotted together as you admit, “I spent my entire adult life, all of this time, hoping he’d be the one to give me away at my wedding.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s my sweetheart,” she murmurs, shadow of a smile dashing across her face. “Always being too good to us.”</p><p class="p1">Michael is. He is the best person you’ve ever known.</p><p class="p1">“I have an idea. I’ve been sitting on it for a long time,” you say suddenly, overwhelmed with the moment. “When we were… there, the kiddo and I discovered that we had both looked up our flower seeds. I didn’t tell him what mine was, because I was holding onto it for someone. But he told me.”</p><p class="p1">“White lilacs,” Mark breathes, recalling the exact same moment here when you’d fought instead.</p><p class="p1">“White lilacs,” you whisper to his mother, revealing the flower she’ll never get to see bloom. “You should plant some here, for him.” The white lilacs will never come to life in a ceremony, that’s true. But you can still have them here, still give Jeno a beautiful blanket of white that you are now realizing will match yours.</p><p class="p1">Her sad little laugh is wistfully melodic, tsunami of teardrops flooded upon her face doing nothing but accentuating her mournful beauty. Then, she lets the smile blossom against her face, the smile of hers that her baby boy wore, full and glowy, with her eyes crinkled into crescents. She shakes your arm softly and says, “How did I get so lucky to have someone like you to love my boys while I was gone?”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s light sob crashes into your ears, and you know exactly what to say back to her. Though she’s surely heard this line before, it is more true now than ever, “Your sons were the easiest people to love I’ve ever loved in my life.”</p><p class="p1">“You don’t have to gas me up like that, bee,” Mark whines through his tears, “We all know who your true love is.”</p><p class="p1">You have to look away from Mrs. Lee for a second to stare at her son, her oldest boy, who is everything to you. You just know it would be an utter travesty if your paths had never crossed, because you’re not you without him.</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun is the person I’m meant to be with, sure,” you concede to his point. But you have one last confession to make, a beautiful one, one that makes you happy, “But M, you’re my soulmate. And he is the soul that we share.”</p><p class="p1">It goes beyond liking the same things or knowing your true intentions or being able to predict the other’s thoughts and feelings. If everything was stripped away, you were separated by time and circumstance and a universe’s distance, it would be inevitable, that you’d find each other again. Because the blossom of Jeno’s memory that lives in Mark’s heart would not rest until it was reunited with the matching one in yours.</p><p class="p1">He knows this, because it’s undeniable. One more tear glitters down his cheek, a silent acknowledgment, and then you’re in his arms. You meld into Mark’s frame for a hug, gathering up every drop of his essence you can hold onto - the sunny brush of his hair against your cheek, his familiar, lingering scent of Tom Ford cologne, how every embrace has felt wonderfully the same since your first one at seventeen. You’re the worst kind of selfish; you could stand here and hug him for a lifetime and still not be satisfied. It’s just that healing, being with him in this way.</p><p class="p1">“I need to leave,” you whisper against his shoulder. “The car will be here any minute now.”</p><p class="p1">His hands clutch at you, suddenly desperate as he gasps into your shoulder, “This isn’t it, right? This can’t be it?”</p><p class="p1">You pull back him, to look at his baby boy face, struggling hard to keep the hysterics at bay when you see how painfully he’s crying. “Listen to me,” you gently hold his face and begin instructing, “Watch over John, okay? Make sure he wakes up. And remember that he needs the kind of girl who will appreciate his brash charm.”</p><p class="p1">John will heap his wonderfully braggadocious, charming self on whatever lovely person that is destined to make his hibiscus blossom. All he needs is a wingman’s hand in the right direction.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, but…” Mark tentatively agrees as he sniffs away his tears, unsure of where you’re going with this.</p><p class="p1">“Yuta and Seulgi are going to have a kid, I already know,” you continue on, not wanting to be stopped. “Make sure he doesn’t name it something dumb like <em>Samurais Fan Nakamoto</em>, okay?”</p><p class="p1">“What are you doing.”</p><p class="p1">“Talk to my parents when you can. They’ll want to know who their daughter’s best friend is. Mom will sew you lots of clothes, just like I did.”</p><p class="p1">The lightbulb goes off over his head, and Mark starts to panic, shaking his head in a frenzy, “No, no, why are you saying this to me like it’s your <em>will—</em>,”</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun, he—,” you have a hard time forming your husband’s name, and take a second to peek past Mark’s shoulder and see the shadow of your houses together on the hill. <em>Hill houses forever.</em> You look back to your best friend and finish, “He’s too stubborn to listen to you, no matter if it’s coming from me. So, please, just make sure that my lawn always has flowers in it.”</p><p class="p1">Finally, you rip apart at the crest of the stitching holding you together, and your voice heavily breaks with misery and melancholy, the worst kind of torment you think you’ve ever experienced.</p><p class="p1">“And if I have to go,” you breathe, tearing out your lungs with the effort, “I’ll tell the kid you said hi.”</p><p class="p1">This is it, this is all you’re going to cry today, the three heartbeats of weeping you share with Mark after your final promise. You can only hope that if you die, you’re lucky enough to go to heaven, where Jeno surely is. Because you need to hug him again, too.</p><p class="p1">You take a step backwards, to allow Mrs. Lee to gather her son in her arms, and it feels like you’re severing your heart right out of your chest. You take another step, and another, and you’re prepared to walk all the way back up the hill like this - backwards, in order to not remove your sight away from Mark for even an instant.</p><p class="p1">You’re sure you’re too far away for him to hear your parting words, “I love you so much, bumble.”</p><p class="p1">But because it’s Mark, and it’s you, he says it right back, “Bee, I love you. For forever."</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You take your sweet time climbing the stairs back up to your house, savoring the smell of the pine trees, imagining the oaks from back home amongst them, brushing your hand over the wood railing. You take more than one glance back out into the expanse of Neozone, a city you’ve grown to hold so dear over the years. There is truly nothing like it, no place will ensnare you in the way it has.</p><p class="p1">Once you’ve made it up to the plaza, you rush towards your front door, unable to handle one last glance at the two homes together here. You expected it to be quiet inside — you’d left for the cemetery right when the sun rose, when Jaehyun was unconscious next to you after crying himself to sleep over the revelations about his father — but it’s bustling with commotion when you step through the threshold. Your parents pace back and forth in the middle of your couch pit, Hyungsik beside them staring out the window, Suho on the phone in the corner talking to someone. There’s no sight of Jaehyun, who’s probably still snoring away, and they don’t even notice your arrival until you clear your throat, once, and then louder, twice.</p><p class="p1">Your father whirls around, face crumpling with relief when he sees you there, “Oh, sweet pea. We thought you left.”</p><p class="p1">You smile apologetically, rushing over to hug him, “I’m sorry, I should’ve left a note. I went to say hello to Jeno with Mark.” You press your face right into his sturdy chest and implore, “Please spend some time with him while I’m gone. It would make me happy to know that you were with each other.”</p><p class="p1">He kisses you on the forehead and hugs you closely. “Of course.”</p><p class="p1">Your mother sandwiches herself to your back, trapping you in a loving embrace between both of them. “Please be safe,” she reminds you, as she has to do. “We love you.”</p><p class="p1">Hyungsik comes over, to put a supportive hand on your shoulder and assure you, “We’ll be watching from here, y/n. You won’t be alone.”</p><p class="p1">You nod, remembering the promises you’d both made, and affirm, “I’ll keep in contact as much as I can.” Suho joins his side, nodding to you in encouragement, and you make him a promise as well, “And I will keep my eye open for Baekhyun.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun bursts out of your room, phone in hand, hair wild and eyes crazed, practically shouting, “What did you mean she’s gone already—!” He freezes at the top of the stairs when he sees you enveloped in the nucleus of support you’re in right now. “y/n.”</p><p class="p1">“Jae.”</p><p class="p1">You push away everyone when he comes running down the stairs, his pretty mouth roaring at a thousand words a second, “God, your dad texted saying they couldn’t find you, they thought you were gone already, why did I even sleep in this late I should’ve saw you were gone—,”</p><p class="p1">“Taeil Moon.”</p><p class="p1">He skids to a halt right in front of you, face scrunched at your seemingly random blurted sentiment, “What?”</p><p class="p1">“I would like Taeil Moon to officiate our wedding,” you request.</p><p class="p1">His features unfold from confusion into entertained affection as he steps right into your gravity. Ding ding, you’ve done your job in cheering him up. His fingers close around yours while he stares down at you and laughs, “Yeah? That’s what you want?”</p><p class="p1">You adopt a haughty tone when you address him, making yourself out to be some pompous lady, “There are only two things that I am unwilling to accept anything different on when it comes to our wedding. One, that Taeil Moon will officiate,” the joking, false tone dissipates into a heartfelt murmur, “And two, I would like my mom to sew my dress instead. Not me, my mom.”</p><p class="p1">Your mother’s contemplative sigh strikes a chord in you from where she’s standing, because it’s been so long since you’ve worn something she’s made. You already know Jaehyun would be good with anything, but he takes the time to poke at you and joke, “You could come down the aisle wearing cabbage leaves and I wouldn’t care.”</p><p class="p1">“If I don’t—,”</p><p class="p1">“No. No,” he interrupts you from moving this conversation into the solemn, harrowing topic he knows is coming. “You didn’t ask me!”</p><p class="p1">“Ask you what?”</p><p class="p1">“What I wanted at our wedding.”</p><p class="p1">God, he is so cheeky and coy and cute, you could never deny him anything. You jut your chin out, and concede, “Go ahead, then.”</p><p class="p1">His dimples pop in a very saucy grin, then he starts, “Whatever gushy shit we pick to dance to first has to cut in a very cliché way to Candy, because that was J’s favorite song.” You smile, because it’s so him, and it’s so much the kid that it’s perfect. Then, he darts forward to press a kiss against your cheek and whisper only to you, “And I’d like for you to sew me a tie to wear. I don’t think I should be wearing lions anymore.”</p><p class="p1">That’s a heavier request than you’d anticipated from him. No longer wearing the lion tie, the sigil of the Jung family, is a strong statement that severs his bloodline’s legacy. But a marriage? A marriage is a new beginning. You’ll have to think a bit, but you know you’ll be able to sew him something beautiful.</p><p class="p1">“A wedding is a legitimate request, I suppose,” you tease, overwhelmed with adoration for him. “At least it’s not Boxing Day this time.”</p><p class="p1">You’ll get to sew for him on every nonsense holiday from now until forever. How lovely.</p><p class="p1">“Car’s here, sweet pea,” your father’s quiet voice peals across the room from where he’s peering out your kitchen window. Your feet concrete themselves into the floor in your trepidation, and he urges you along, “Gotta go now so they don’t try to cross the fence.”</p><p class="p1">Somebody’s ripping you out of Jaehyun’s hold, oh, it’s your mother, with her soothing hand on your shoulder. But you can’t go, not like this. You didn’t get a chance to hug him, to kiss his mouth one last time. But she’s pulling you to the door, Suho’s retrieving your bag from the closet, Hyungsik is tearing down the Exordium plan sheets from the walls, and all you can do is look at Jaehyun as you obediently follow along. How is he so handsome, even like this, with his sleep mussed hair and red rimmed eyes, the collar of one of his white sleep tees completely wrinkled.</p><p class="p1">“Jae, if I go—,” your euphemistic phrasing is lost in the commotion, but your sharp correction makes everyone freeze, words ringing out loud and clear, “if I <em>die</em>, I wanted to say—,”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, shut up, you idiot,” he blusters, “this isn’t the end.” His hand comes to wipe at his face as he rolls his eyes. He’s unable to stand there and listen to whatever you want to say, unwilling to accept the fact that this might be the last time you look upon each other.</p><p class="p1">“You’re the idiot,” you retort. “You didn’t even let me finish!”</p><p class="p1">He pitches up his deep voice in what is supposed to be a mockery of yours, “<em>I wanted to say</em> <em>I love you, Jae.”</em>He raises a defiant eyebrow and presses you to answer, “Right?”</p><p class="p1">How are you so lucky that he’s loved you like this? Perhaps the reason the rest of your life seems so downtrodden is because you’ve channeled all your gracious luck into him.</p><p class="p1">“I do,” you swear your eternal promise to him, like you would have at an altar, then clarify, “but that wasn’t it.” You shrug, just a girl here with her husband, and the answer is simple, “I wanted to say thank you. For <em>everything</em>.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve been on a lifetime search, for the bits and pieces of a person that would form your true love. You’d found them scattered amongst the men in your life, Yuta’s unbending fealty, John’s brash passion, Mark’s quiet serendipity — even Michael’s inherent goodness, your father’s never-ending care, and Jeno’s cheeky worldliness.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun? He is all of that, sewn together in one boy, a boy from home who loves you. </p><p class="p1">You understand now why he’d whispered the same phrase to you that night. You’d been all of that for him in return, always putting him first, never afraid to get in a passionate fight about the things you cared about, convinced through the years that he was who you were meant for. You’d given yourself up to save a boy, are doing it again now, have been there to pick him up through the traumas of his life, and mostly did it all with a smile on your face, a funny joke in your back pocket.</p><p class="p1">That’s why you’d said <em>thank you</em> instead of <em>I love you. </em>If you are to never see him again, you wanted him to know at least once, that you’ve always felt the same.</p><p class="p1">You once thought the moonlight coming through your window at night was a perfect sight. But it has nothing on the halcyon rays of morning autumn sun enveloping him right now - the golden light, his golden hair, and his glistening golden eyes a trio of unforgettable transcendence. The final moment with him you have before you’re pushed out the door is one that is stitched onto your heart forever.</p><p class="p1">It’s Jaehyun, his cute smile, and a scrap of golden thread tied around his left ring finger as he waves goodbye.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>-END OF PART TWO-</strong>
</p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>we've reached the end of part two! how's everybody feeling? drop a comment with your thoughts!!! </p><p>thank you for being with me this whole time, i appreciate it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. tropaeolum majus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I'm here because I intend to marry your son. I’m here because I intend to marry your son. You don’t know if you’re repeating the phrase in an effort to memorize it or in the desperate need to convince yourself you believe it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello! just two notes before we get started:</p><p>1. i live in america - thanksgiving is tomorrow, i'm pushing this chapter out early so i won't have to work in my food coma! i hope you enjoy the surprise head start to part three! :)</p><p>2. i went through an incredibly upsetting ordeal earlier this week that i'd like to share. </p><p>one of my readers notified me that several of my stories were blatantly plagiarized over on tumblr. i'm talking plot lines and characterizations were directly re-used by the author, as well as narrative movement, dialogue, and original character names. i'm not going to link the blog, but the person who copied my work already has hundreds of notes on the two fics. even though i got the stories taken down from some big writing networks, the plagiarizer still has not responded to me about deleting the posts and i don't know if they ever will. </p><p>***i don't have an account on any social media except ao3, so if you ever see anything that's remotely similar to my work anywhere else, it is NOT me, and it would be so great if you could tell me.***</p><p>i don't mind at all if you share my works on these sites - in fact, i'd love it if you did for that #FreePromo that I wouldn't get. i wouldn't even mind if those of you who also write used my universes and characters in your fics. i would be moved beyond belief. but the point is that proper credit has to be given. a simple 'thanks to loseyoutoloveme for the idea, go see her story here' was all that was necessary for me to have been less bothered by the co-opting of my ideas, but that didn't happen. </p><p>i work incredibly hard on my stories, you all can see that i've been posting this one for months now. i have a full time job that is NOT writing, i do this simply because i love it and i love seeing your reactions. so to wake up and find my work stolen was so incredibly upsetting i actually spent a lot of the day tearing up because i was so mad about it. i love my readers, i spend so much time interacting with you all, and i know deep down that you would likely never do this to me and am not in any way blaming you. but i just wanted to include this note, because i never want to feel this way again.</p><p> thank you for understanding!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong>-PART THREE-</strong>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’re not entirely sure how long you’ve been sitting on this bench.</p><p class="p1">It can’t have been more than a day - you’d arrived in Pandora when the afternoon sun was blazing high in the sky, and it has not yet taken its dip into dusk and back around again. But you’ve had your gaze focused on this one crooked, cracked square of tile, honed in on the small imperfection. You haven’t been able to glance up to the window and check. You’re doing your best to keep your nausea under control, tunneling your vision straight into said imperfection, because the permeating smell of chrysanthemums here is really just… unpleasant.</p><p class="p1">“Where is she?” You think you might register someone speaking, but it’s as if all your senses have been dulled out by this one cracked floor tile. Maybe you can get some sealant somewhere and disguise the crack. It is quite unsightly amongst the pristine sameness of the rest. “Blueberry girl.”</p><p class="p1">You definitely register that, and you are no position to ignore it.</p><p class="p1">Reluctantly tearing your eyes off that blasted floor tile, you look over to the source of the noise. You're grateful for the protective rim of your Bats cap and the way it will most likely conceal the less than pleased wisp of energy in your eyes. You hope that somehow a hat will also disguise the way your back stiffens into attention when you see that it’s Kyungsoo there at the door. His black eyes are the opposite of yours, with the way they’re sparkling intently as he stares.</p><p class="p1">“Hi,” is all you can manage in return.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo leans against the doorway, face alight with happiness, voice soft as he continues to marvel, “I can’t believe you’re here.”</p><p class="p1">“I know,” you concur, but the emotions behind it differ, “me neither.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t know why you expect tentative hesitation from him, considering how your last encounter went. But the way he rushes over to sit by your side, so earnest in his affection, gives you such an immediate, screaming headache you almost miss his flow of questions, “Did you have a good trip? Did you wait long for me to get here? I told them to call me as soon as you arrived.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, the trip to the capital might’ve been marginally better if I was sedated like last time,” you joke, knowing it would not be amusing to tell him how you’d sat in the back seat of your ordered car in morbid silence the entire drive into the capital. It’d be pretty awful to convey how pointedly you’d ignored the Pandora driver who’d brought you here, and the staff members of the Premier’s household who’d shown you to your private room. And it would be especially horrid to show him the razing bruise you’d marked on your palm out of sheer nausea. That’s why you went with the joke.</p><p class="p1">But his smile fades and he chastises you, “That’s not funny.”</p><p class="p1">“I thought—,” you start, intending to explain that he used to find that kind of over the top dark humor absolutely hilarious. But the set of his jaw changes the direction of the conversation, “Never mind. The trip was quite pleasant, thank you again for sending a driver instead of soldiers.”</p><p class="p1">It’s not even five minutes and you’re already walking on eggshells around him. Because of <em>him</em> specifically, and not the handful of guards that are pretending not to eavesdrop by the door.</p><p class="p1">A peek of old Kyungsoo returns, his pretty pink lips turning up into a smile and conceding, “It was my pleasure.” But as soon as it comes, it disappears completely with his harsh followup, “I knew you couldn’t be considered an associate of Michael’s anyway.”</p><p class="p1">A punishing reminder of why you’re here, really, you feel that nausea from before well up into your throat, forcing it out of you in a choke, “What is that supposed to mean?” You’re an associate of Michael’s in every way, he’s been calling you a part of his family for years. Surely Kyungsoo didn’t actually have a moment where he thought you could’ve been ‘involved’ in committing these false crimes, right?</p><p class="p1">“You didn’t even know him when Premier Park died.”</p><p class="p1">You really hope you don’t make a disgusted face he can see. Because all that statement says is that he believes every single one of the charges otherwise. And dashes away any shred of hope you’d been reaching for on the ride here that he’d be an ally to you in the middle of this desolation.</p><p class="p1">“Right,” you mutter, compelled to look away from him so as to not get sick.</p><p class="p1">He, thankfully, doesn’t pick up on your stress, his own voice melts away into tenderness, “But let’s not talk politics right now, we’re finally alone together, and it’s been far too long.”</p><p class="p1">“I saw you last week, silly,” you force yourself to say, pepping up the false cheer and giving Kyungsoo your most coquettish smile, rubbing your hand against your neck to keep up the aura of shyness.</p><p class="p1">You should’ve kept your hands to yourself, because the motion catches Kyungsoo’s eye, and in turn he catches your hand within his, the sensation of his skin meeting yours already foreign and disagreeable. As expected, the guilt comes flooding back when he looks down at your hand, face blooming brilliant with joy,</p><p class="p1">“You’re wearing the ring. Have you been wearing it the whole time?”</p><p class="p1"><em>No. </em>“Yes.”</p><p class="p1">No, no, no. The silver ring on your finger right now has taken a perilous back and forth journey upon your hand. You’d naively thought you would give it the respected rest it deserved, but instead, the silver is back on your hand right now instead of gold. That small ray of sunshine is stowed away into the deepest part of your bag, tucked in a pocket of your wallet only you know about. It seemed like the perfect place to conceal the piece of jewelry, considering the memory of you had once been hidden away in a leather wallet.</p><p class="p1">“It was only supposed to be until we got the papers signed,” Kyungsoo muses, pad of his thumb running over the metal, then over the rough skin of your knuckle. “Which I guess still hasn’t happened.”</p><p class="p1">He’s taking a turn back to the time outside of the Elyxion Regent’s office — when he’d handed you the ring despite your distaste, and entreated that you only had to wear it until the next day, when your marriage became official. Yet here you are, still without an official marriage between you, his woozy haziness of adoration enough to tell you that he thinks you’ve done this out of some erstwhile feeling for him.</p><p class="p1">“I love you. I love you so much,” he murmurs, fingers clambering up to your wrist so he can pull you closer on the bench. You know what he’s desiring, he wants to press his mouth upon yours, still under the impression you’re his. And you really, really can’t deal with that right now.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, oh my god, not while I’m here!”</p><p class="p1">What you feel at the bombarding interruption arresting Kyungsoo’s forward motion is one third utter relief, one third total shock, and one third complete excitement to see, “Baekhyun?”</p><p class="p1">“Soo’s girl!”</p><p class="p1">The singer has just strolled in through the door in his easy loungewear, a welcome contrast to the stiff suit Kyungsoo’s buttoned up in. But you certainly hadn’t expected to see him walk freely within the Premier’s mansion, especially because Suho and the rest of his team had been locked up in Siwon’s mansion.</p><p class="p1">You have a much more enthusiastic reunion with Baekhyun, allowing him to practically bowl you over in his haste to clamber onto the bench, squeezing himself between you and Kyungsoo so he can hug you and ask, “What are you doing here?!”</p><p class="p1">“Well, I am here to visit my handsome boyfriend. What are you doing here?”</p><p class="p1">“Why would I not come to Pandora, our esteemed capital?”</p><p class="p1">You pull your chin off his shoulder to figure out if he’s kidding or not. He’s smiling, but only from the joy of being reunited with you, not because he’s told a funny joke. Which makes his previous statement more confusing, considering he’d dropped all of his artist activities to what? Pledge some kind of loyalty to his friend and his father?</p><p class="p1">“Maybe because your fans all over Dorado are wondering where the hell you are?” you press, wondering if he’s been seeing the headlines running rampant about his sudden disappearance.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun’s lips twitch, but he answers smoothly, and perhaps a bit out of character, “My fans in Neozone won’t have to wait that much longer to see me again, they shouldn’t worry.” He exchanges a sideways, undecipherable glance with Kyungsoo, before he’s his usual cheery self again, “Anyways, it’s been way too long since we’ve seen each other!”</p><p class="p1">“Since the—,”</p><p class="p1">“Since Soo had to come here, right?” Baekhyun interrupts you before you have a chance to finish the sentence, <em>since the trip to Zero Mile</em>, and instead turns the questioning upon you, “What’s new in your life?”</p><p class="p1">“Really not much….” you mutter, not sure you’re allowed to tell him what’s transpired since you were separated. A fake marriage, a shooting, an almost arrest, a real marriage, a blossom ceremony. Your life is over-the-top and out of control.</p><p class="p1">“Not much? You call getting married not much?” Kyungsoo calls your bluff with a bark of laughter. “Easily the highlight of running into you in Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun gasps, hands flying to cover his mouth with the drama, then he grabs your shoulder to pull you in and whisper, “You got married?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo corrects his previous statement, “Well, <em>fake</em> married. To one of her neighbor friend dudes.” But it comes across as him trying to goad you into admitting you’d been hiding something from him. When you keep your mouth shut, he loads up on the smarminess, “Tried to fool my father into thinking they were married. They bought it, but I was the only one who found it funny.”</p><p class="p1">“Your neighbor?” Baekhyun asks, brow furrowing as he thinks to where he might’ve heard that moniker before.</p><p class="p1">You gulp nervously when you realize that you’d described Jaehyun to him as your neighbor once, that first awful time you’d seen each other at the fan sign. You’d thought of what would hurt him the most — describing him as your neighbor, and nothing else, had done the trick. Hopefully Baekhyun doesn’t remember that and tell on you.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo, thankfully, doesn’t give you a chance to answer, only putting an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders to begin to shoo him away, “Okay, enough small talk, Byun, can you leave me to be with my girlfriend for once?”</p><p class="p1">“Ew. Yeah,” Baekhyun groans as soon as he picks up on Kyungsoo’s subtle implication.</p><p class="p1">The nausea returns at full force at the idea of being alone with the other man. Jaehyun said <em>do what you need to do</em> before you’d left, but you don’t think this is covered by that blanket statement. You can’t sit here side by side without feeling uncomfortable, let alone stomach the idea of kissing Kyungsoo again, and beyond that, probably the expectation he has to take you to bed once more. Above all, it makes you feel like a massive hypocrite, to have these fears, knowing you can’t stomach how this feels like cheating after having been complicit in infidelity of your own for the longest time.</p><p class="p1">You’d thought you had planned excuses all lined up, to be brash in the way you dealt with this and let Kyungsoo know your expectations and boundaries. But you can only default back to the same shaking fear, the same kind of muted excuse you used to give in the trenches of your worst days, “I, I’m so tired. Is it okay if nap before dinner?” To not sound so utterly pathetic, you tack on, “I want to look fresh before dinner with your father, of course.”</p><p class="p1">“Whatever you want,” he accepts without protest, picking up on the signature tremble of discomfort in your voice he had come to know so well. He presses a soft kiss to your bejeweled finger, forcing your eyes to flutter shut with a hefty wave of nausea. He gets up to go after one more kiss, and leaves you alone in your room, with no guard, nothing, so that you can sleep as you wish.</p><p class="p1">But you don’t sleep, you only continue to sit on that bench, eyes back on that one crooked floor tile, until the door attendant knocks in a signal that you need to start getting ready.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"><em>I'm here because I intend to marry your son. I’m here because I intend to marry your son. </em>You don’t know if you’re repeating the phrase in an effort to memorize it or in the desperate need to convince yourself you believe it.</p><p class="p1">“Ms. Y/l/n.”</p><p class="p1">The pale green skirt of your dress flutters around your knees, a muted mimicry of the cacophony of frenzied heartbeats that are set off by the sound of your name. There’s any number of nefarious individuals that could corner you alone in this deserted hallway right now. But god, why does it have to be this one?</p><p class="p1">You make sure to use his new, proper title when you address him, “Vice Premier Jung, hello.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s father is standing only a few feet away, his guards nowhere to be seen, and you feel infuriatingly vulnerable right now. There are too many alternate scenarios to contemplate, where you stare him down, or better, shout him down, that you know his secret, he’s a son of Wolf Way. But none of those scenarios can happen right now, not when you’ve just arrived in Pandora with no backup. His eyes narrow as they always do behind his glasses, and he uses the same distasteful tone, “I didn’t realize you had traveled to Pandora, what are you doing he—,”</p><p class="p1">“She’s here with me, Vice Premier,” Kyungsoo’s deep voice echoes through the empty hallway, and you don’t even chide yourself for clinging onto him the moment he’s by your side. There’s no explaining you need to do, you only have to hold onto the personal hope that somehow Kyungsoo hasn’t also become friends with the man.</p><p class="p1">Mr. Jung’s eyebrows shoot into his receding hairline as he very pointedly glances to where Kyungsoo’s hand has found your waist, then his forehead crinkles as he tries to make sense of what’s going on, “Oh, my apologies Mr. Do, I wasn’t aware that you two were…. involved again.”</p><p class="p1">“We were never not involved, Jefferson,” Kyungsoo retorts, easy and breezy and on your behalf as well. You certainly have no place to tell him otherwise, considering he’s bailed you out like this. He keeps a grasp on your torso and gestures to the door, “Shall we?”</p><p class="p1">Vice Premier Jung keeps his mouth shut, though he’s probably itching to pry and prod more. A guard materializes out of nowhere and pushes open the double doors to the formal dining room, revealing the minimalistic chrome decor and place settings that await you inside. You’re hit again by another rush of fragrant chrysanthemum odor, causing you to dig your nails into Kyungsoo’s arm as you hear another cheerful greeting, “Ah, y/n!”</p><p class="p1">“Premier Kim, hello.”</p><p class="p1">Before you realize what’s going on, the Premier has rushed over to air kiss you on both cheeks, the most over-the-top type greeting you’ve ever gotten from him. And then you realize it’s because you’re here as a guest, yes, but you’re really here as his <em>daughter-in-law.</em> That changes your attitude entirely, you melt the tension out of your face, put on your best, best girlish smile, and allow him to pull your chair out so you can sit for the first course. Not that you can remember what it actually is - you only recall moving the garnish of ornamental nasturtium off your plate so you can be served some cold vegetable soup you can’t pronounce the name of. You’re spending most of your effort trying not to make eye contact with your actual father-in-law.</p><p class="p1">“It is beyond lovely to finally have you here in the capital with us!” Premier Kim says, after the obligatory yet safe small talk about your feelings and the weather. You don’t have much safety net left, “I do have to say though, when my son told me you would be joining him here, I was beyond surprised.”</p><p class="p1">You take a deep breath, preparing to put on the show of your life. You make a big deal of reaching your hand out of your lap and placing it over Kyungsoo’s, then murmuring, “I thought it would be inappropriate to remain in Neozone while my partner was here.”</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim’s face explodes into an incredibly pleased smile, so much like a father observing two teenagers getting caught together, “So, you’ve finally felt it necessary to clarify what happened with young Mr. Jung at the party?”</p><p class="p1">Mr. Jung blusters in immediate apology, clear that he’s still beyond mortified by the surprise marriage announcement, “Kyungho, I am deeply sorry—,”</p><p class="p1">“Jefferson, it’s okay,” Premier Kim cuts off his old friend with a laugh, then leans back and reminisces, “We were their age once, and you certainly cannot judge me for things I have done in relationships,” perhaps referencing the fact you’re all sitting at the table with a living representation of that. But there’s not a moment to laugh along because he gets right to the point, “So, sweet girl. Care to explain why you made such a fuss when it seems like you have only ever wanted to be with my son?”</p><p class="p1">Here we go.</p><p class="p1">It doesn’t take that much effort to bow your head, and force a tremble into your voice, “It was Michael Lee who forced me to.”</p><p class="p1">You’d been left on your own to come up with an excuse that they’d believe, knowing they wouldn’t just let you waltz in here without explaining why you’d gone gallivanting around with a different man. You really didn’t have to think much. It was sort of obvious, the idea to use the man they seem to hate more than anyone as your scapegoat. From the way the two officials glance at each other, in a melange of relief and ill-concealed <em>gotcha</em> from Mr. Jung’s end, you’d hit it right on the nose.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo, though, spits out the mouthful of salad he’d just taken, “What.”</p><p class="p1">This all hinges on a) your believability and b) the desperate belief that they can’t punish Michael any more for this additional injustice.</p><p class="p1">So you load the stress into your voice and rub at your temple as you explain, hushed, “He and I talked often and by that point, he had become increasingly paranoid that something would happen to his family. I’m sure you know how the laws of matrimony work, so he tried to manipulate me into staying in Neozone by forcing me to marry a Neozone citizen.” The last part is technically true, and was what you built this lie off of. “I have any number of friends that were available, but Vice Premier Jung,” you gather the fortitude to look the man in the eye and state strongly, “I’m sure you know that the former Vice Premier does not hold you in the highest regard.”</p><p class="p1">It doesn’t take long for Mr. Jung’s mind to reach the paranoid conclusion you’d needed it to, “And Michael already knew I had plans for Jaehyun’s marriage.”</p><p class="p1">Pretty much everyone in Neozone knew that Jaehyun and Mimi were dating, Michael was no exception to that. Though you never have gathered his thoughts on that would-have-been relationship, you assume in Mr. Jung’s mind, Michael would’ve stopped at nothing to sabotage his family’s success in the world.</p><p class="p1">“Exactly, he wanted to ruin those,” you confirm, now projecting sadness, and what you hope is fear, “But not only that, he threatened your son’s life. If he did not comply, he faced dire, dire consequences.”</p><p class="p1">Mr. Jung is out of his seat in an instant after you’ve finished that latest falsehood, face already a deep purple as he strains with exertion. He doesn’t seem to pick up on the fact that you’ve merely turned his threats to Jaehyun around and used them against him, only letting his anger brew into preternatural levels, simmering into a volcanic fury. How deeply, deeply ironic.</p><p class="p1">“Jefferson,” Premier Kim puts a hand on his comrade’s back to keep him from doing something he’ll regret.</p><p class="p1">That moment of pause Mr. Jung takes is enough time for you to slip quietly back into that facade, to prod in another tendril that will win them over, “It was a good thing you um, you <em>acted </em>when you did, because I don’t think Jaehyun would’ve been safe for much longer. He hates me, he really does. He’s been with Mimi for so long.”</p><p class="p1">Out of everything you’ve said just now, that is the most unbelievable lie. But it is the one that Vice Premier Jung accepts most easily. To your total lack of surprise, Kyungsoo also appears incredibly placated by that confirmation of Jaehyun’s true feelings, the ghost of a self-satisfied smile dusting across his lips.</p><p class="p1">You gulp nervously as you bow your head in utter repentance towards the man across from you, and allow the tears to gather in your eyes as you sniff, “I am incredibly sorry I caused your family so much turmoil, sir.” You don’t register his reaction because you turn immediately to the other authority figure and do the same, “Premier Kim, sir, I never intended to make you look like a fool.”</p><p class="p1">“Well it was certainly a shock,” he admits, though he smiles pleasantly, “but I wasn’t insulted.”</p><p class="p1">You lean into Kyungsoo slightly, then press on, “It seems as if you had plans for your son’s arranged marriage, which I must’ve ruined.” Kyungsoo would’ve been happier with a random stranger than with an unavailable you, your only fear is that he’s far too stubborn to recognize it. </p><p class="p1">Premier Kim waves a hand, then nonchalantly says, “Well, it’s no matter. If you are intending to be with each other, I think the head of this nation should be able to dissolve a marriage. Don't you?”</p><p class="p1">The sight of your untouched salad swims a bit in your vision as you go woozy with the declaration, even though you should’ve expected it. Your marriage is one of the last remaining good things in your life now that you’re alone. You’re without your parents, without your best friends, at arm’s length from the man you thought you were closest to. It’s a desert of isolation out here. To think that in the Minister of Cultivation’s file cabinets somewhere is a signed, dotted with your own blood, real, all or nothing piece of paper sealing you to the person you love most is the last thread of intangible comfort you can hang on to. And they want to ruin that, too.</p><p class="p1">“I certainly have never intended otherwise,” Kyungsoo professes, in what should be an incredibly romantic moment, his dark seriousness a handsome contrast to the white of the room.</p><p class="p1">The truth of it is, you’ve never intended to be with anyone other than Jaehyun, not really. “Neither… have I.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo smiles, and it’s a needle to the heart.</p><p class="p1">“Once Michael’s trial…”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungho!”</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim doesn’t seem fazed at all that he’s mentioned the other man, despite Mr. Jung’s obvious discomfort, “What? It’s not like it hasn’t already been in the press.” He turns to you in such a fatherly manner it almost disarms you, “And honestly, it should be my apology for bringing it up first. I’m sure you would want to have a discussion about what has happened with your foster father.”</p><p class="p1"><em>Yes, yes, tell me everything.</em> But don’t do that, y/n, if you beg they’ll know what you’re here for.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t think a discussion is necessary unless you wish to consider me an associate and ask for any information I hold,” you deny his offer, demure and proper as you expect them to want you to be.</p><p class="p1">“And why is that?”</p><p class="p1">Here it comes, the culmination of being stuffed onto a pedestal you’ve never asked for, of being trotted out to every big official welcome like a prize pony. You’re the icon of the city, they should expect your straightforward and patriotic answer, “A Neozone daughter should only be loyal to Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">The proud smile that crosses Premier Kim’s face could be the opening crawl of a horror film.</p><p class="p1">“See, Jefferson? I told you she would be perfect,” he brags, in a way that is a thousand times worse than any sort of bragging statement Michael has made about you. Perfect for what? You’re so lost in trying to figure out what that had meant, it almost slips by you, “Anyways, we can start preparations to hold your blossom ceremony as soon as possible.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a buzz of pain from Kyungsoo’s mouth, then you realize you’ve mashed your palm right into the back of his hand in an involuntary reaction. Shit, there’s no way to hide your abject surprise, the stutter of your words is not at all fake, “T-that, that won’t be necessary sir.”</p><p class="p1">You’d naively thought that you’d skip right to a marriage, for the pomp and circumstance that comes with an official’s wedding, one that Dorado hasn’t seen since Hyungsik’s parents got married after Premier Park had just ascended to his position. But a blossom ceremony is a hallmark of the Neozone region, and of course they would want to show it off.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim confirms this with his amused chuckle at your shock, “Ah, nonsense. You two are from Neozone, you have your flower seeds, we need to display our proud tradition to the entire nation.”</p><p class="p1">“There is no tradition in our region that is more representative of who we are,” Vice Premier Jung agrees, with no smidgen of wavering on a custom that he hadn’t actually grown up with. A tradition, that when he partook in it, ended with his family’s employee becoming a kidnapping victim. How is that representative of any ideal your home should be known for?</p><p class="p1">“You have to indulge an old man,” Premier Kim wheedles, like you’re two defiant teenagers who want to do their own thing, and this is a favor you can do him, “I have never been able to have one, though I have always longed for one. It would be nice to see my son get to in my stead.” Kyungsoo’s hand involuntarily braces itself upon yours just as your fingers twitch at the sudden mention of Kyungah. You don’t dare look at him, afraid what your expression might give away.</p><p class="p1">You instead focus on a very curious VP Jung, who wastes no time prying into his senior, “Sir? Kyungsoo’s mother decided to forgo our tradition?”</p><p class="p1">How do they still not know that Kyungsoo is half-Elyxion in his mother’s bloodline? Was Premier Kim that ashamed of one night with a woman from the other region that he’s kept her identity a secret from even his closest friends? It’s strange, he could’ve easily found a woman to give him a Neozone family he could be proud of, but he’s lived in solitude ever since. Strange, strange, strange, things are so strange here and you really can’t take Kyungsoo’s nails burrowing into your flesh. <em>Say something if your father makes you so uncomfortable. </em></p><p class="p1">“Kyungsoo’s mother had a mind of her own,” Premier Kim chuckles vaguely, though it is not a totally joyful or harmless laugh. “Maybe I overcompensated by putting my chrysanthemum everywhere even though it’s never blossomed. We should change the decor in here after we find out what your kids’ flowers are!”</p><p class="p1">How on earth are you supposed to explain to these men that they should not hold a blossom ceremony because your flower has already bloomed for somebody else?  Especially considering one of them is the father of the person who brought forth that newly-born bloom? If a failed blossom ceremony is such an awfully fantastic spectacle, they will undoubtedly want to avoid the embarrassment. The proper move is to come clean about it all now, right? Or is this their way of trapping you?</p><p class="p1">“Of course, Father, whatever you would like,” Kyungsoo agrees without qualms, running a thumb over the back of your hand and silencing you before you can stupidly spill your gut of the truth.</p><p class="p1">You don’t know how you manage to keep the second round of surprise off your face, but Premier Kim appears pleased enough with the concession and picks up his utensils to resume eating once more, “Let’s get back to our dinner and catch up about what we’ve been missing out on!”</p><p class="p1">Fuck. You thought you were doing so well. You were tacitly fine with dissolving the marriage, especially holding the precious promise that Jaehyun would marry you as many times as he needed to. If one marriage could end, so could a second. But a blossom ceremony has suddenly shot to the upper echelon of what you hold in reverence. It feels untouchable, due to the sheer effort of reaching that point, all those years of denial, the clashing, the terrible longing, the wretched acceptance of impossibility. And the unparalleled joy that sunrise of a final moment had brought.</p><p class="p1">Now it seems almost sinful, to engage yourself in a sham like this. You’ve never intended it to be anything than stellaria and honeysuckle, together forever.</p><p class="p1">You fume for the rest of dinner, not tasting anything but bitter, bitter animosity and the seasoning of wanted revenge. You’re so incensed at the idea that you burst into torrid flames of emotion once you’re in your living quarters, disregarding the soldier potentially within earshot, “A blossom ceremony, really?”</p><p class="p1">“Father is from Neozone, it really shouldn’t be that surprising to you,” Kyungsoo answers in a blasé manner, as he flops down on a chaise in the lounge area and begins to loosen his tie. </p><p class="p1">You wonder if he’s being purposefully obtuse, or if you’re remembering things that never existed. There’s a huge reason this could never happen, beyond the fact that you have already found your true love. You struggle to keep your pitch at a hushed decibel as you point out, “It’s surprising because we already had one that did not work!”</p><p class="p1">“It wasn’t a ceremony, we used wineglasses in Baek’s kitchen!”</p><p class="p1">“We said the words! And besides, you don’t need the ceremony to have your flower blossom!”</p><p class="p1">You should not have said that. You really shouldn’t have fucking said that. Because while Kyungsoo seemed to not give a shit about any of it before, he’s certainly paying attention now. Paying suspicious attention, more like it, he’s fixed you with quite the discerning stare, trying to pluck out the potential of hidden meaning behind your outburst. There are only a handful of ways to have that theory proven true, and you can’t have him narrowing it down to the correct one.</p><p class="p1">“How do you know that,” he asks, voice low and menacing.</p><p class="p1">“Little man told me!” you lie in exasperation, grateful that Jeno continues to look out for you, even from his cushy spot in the heavens. “He saw it happen!”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo freezes. No matter how much he’s changed, it’s unavoidable for him to go unaffected by the mention of the late teen. But you’re still treated to the strains of how he’s transformed into someone you don’t recognize at all, because you get no sympathy from him, only a direct order. “We’re going to do whatever Father wants, got it?”</p><p class="p1">“Jeez, it’s surprising how controlling you got,” you sneer, preparing to make a beeline to your private bedroom so you don’t have to continue on in this farce of a conversation.</p><p class="p1">“Controlling?! Controlling?” Kyungsoo bursts out, stalking over from the chair to get into your personal space. As the guards peek in through the doors, now blatantly listening, he stabs an angry finger in the proximity of your chest and snarls, “You were the one who made me look like an absolute douche bag by not telling me any of that shit about Jaehyun!”</p><p class="p1">Yikes, nice reminder to never bring up the rest of it. You roll your eyes and load your words with a heft of sarcasm, “Oh, forgive me for trying to watch out for you!”</p><p class="p1">“Safe from who? Michael?”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungsoo,” you breathe out, taken aback by his harsh words against his uncle.</p><p class="p1">Michael hadn’t only looked out for you, he’d gone above and beyond to take care of Kyungsoo, to invite him into his household as a companion for Mark, to watch over him once he arrived in the capital. Out of all the bizarre things that have happened since you’ve come here, this is what hurts you the most. He doesn’t even look particularly remorseful for the comment.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry,” he apologizes before you can interrogate him, but you can no longer read his level of sincerity, “I don’t want to fight. Not when we’re finally back with each other.”</p><p class="p1">He can’t switch it up like this, want to have a go at you then act the tender boyfriend. You step away from him as you harshly accuse him, “<em>You </em>made it a fight!”</p><p class="p1">“And I said I was sorry,” he repeats, running a frustrated hand through his hair before he sighs, “Now can we please, <em>please</em> go to bed.”</p><p class="p1">You take another step back, arms crossing over your chest as you grab yourself in a shield of protection, shying away from his yearning fingers that have reached out to touch you on the arm. You shake your head, words trembling, “No. I can’t.” You can’t go to bed with him, you can’t kiss him, you can’t hug him, you can’t do any of that. You’re someone else’s wife. Not his. It is a cursed blessing that he will think this foul mood of yours is only because you’ve just had a blowout fight.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo looks so hurt then, wide black eyes finally doused in regret, streak of exhaustion creeping up in his slumped shoulders. “Babe, I haven’t been able to… Please come to bed with me,” he tries again, the lilting syllables of his sentences the tenderest, most melodic you’ve heard from him in some time. If you’d been even a smidgen off your game, he would’ve ensnared you in an instant. That was a ribbon that tied you together, once, the inability to sleep alone.</p><p class="p1">But he’s his own undoing, because you cannot look him in the eye and see anything but the bold, blaring, ugly words that he’d just growled at you. <em>Safe from who? Michael?</em> Even if you were drearily unattached, you would never, ever go to bed with a person who held that sort of awful belief about your adopted father.</p><p class="p1">“No. Goodnight,” you growl, and then he gets a door right to the face.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Some may ask how far is too far? In this case, there is no such thing as too far. As the Justice Ministry prepares to take these cases to trial at the turn of the month, citizens of Neozone can be reassured that they will never again have to look over their shoulder in fear.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Siwon Choi here in Pandora, where many of our government’s officials have expressed dismay that two of their own, Michael Lee and Dohun Oh, could have been plotting these terrible events right under our noses. Stay tuned for the top of the hour, where we dive into the rising fear that Elyxion may move against us in the coming days.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’ve only been in the capital a week, but it’s already blended into a sonorous melange of nausea and repulsion. You don’t know how many more Siwon Choi broadcasts you can sit through during your lunches and dinners, sequestered alone in your bedchambers, rarely opening the door for anyone. Anyone, in this specific instance, means Kyungsoo, who has come by dutifully once a day to try and coax you out of your self-imposed confinement. It’s a telling sign that you actually would rather watch one of Siwon’s propaganda filled newscasts than attempt another conversation with Kyungsoo.</p><p class="p1">It’s a decrepit routine, wake up, receive the morning guards, ignore Kyungsoo, have lunch, try not to claw your eyes out at the reports of Neozone unrest, receive the afternoon guards, shoot down Kyungsoo’s proposal for dinner, try not to faint at the footage of officials being interviewed about how much they hate Michael, receive the night guards, sleep. Maddeningly frustrating, you have no idea how you’re supposed to be helping Exordium or Michael in any way. It’s the same nonsense over and over. Until one morning, it isn’t.</p><p class="p1">You’re standing in the doorway of your room, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the evening guard so that you can lock yourself in once again and perhaps avoid talking to Kyungsoo for the day. But when the newest Pandora soldier comes rounding the corner, it happens in lightning succession: registering the slip of hair visible under the cap is lilac, not black, to recognizing a familiar set of ear piercings, to having Mark’s old bodyguard Ten slammed up against the wall.</p><p class="p1">“You. Leechaiyapornkul,” you growl, hand around his neck from where you’d been able to snatch him up, off guard, “Where’s Michael.”</p><p class="p1">It always seemed fishy to you that Mark had come back to Neozone without the man who had been his shadow since they’d moved away the first time. And now here is the proof, him showing up as part of your rotating cast of guards.</p><p class="p1">His immediate reaction, though, isn’t to push you off and raise the alarm, it’s to cower under your grasp and ask, “W-what?”</p><p class="p1">“Where is Michael Lee,” you repeat, words as steel as a sword. “I know you know who I’m talking about.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">“You do. You do. Tell me.”</p><p class="p1">“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ten states again, more firmly this time as hegathers up the sense to shove you off him and start to exert his authority. He’s got the height and size advantage on you, sure, but you’ve been permanently on edge about your foster father for far too long for you to just let this go without a fight.</p><p class="p1">You stand your ground from his advancement into intimidation and elevate your tone one decibel from yelling, “Michael! Michael Lee, Vice Premier of this nation! Your employer, the man who watched out for you!” You can’t believe someone could be as fickle like this, could cast aside someone he used to spend his life with. And while Mark was never close with him like he was with Yuta, they’d definitely been clear companions during the return home. “Michael, father of Mark, who is your friend! Michael Lee, where is he!”</p><p class="p1">Ten’s eyes flick with hesitation to the door of the apartment, but he doubles down on his previous answer, “I don’t know who or what you’re talking about.”</p><p class="p1">“Alright, alright, that’s fine,” you let go of your aggression, already switching to another tactic of gleaning out this information you know he has. You take a step back, and another, about to take your quiet leave from the room, goading him into believing you’re not going to fight anymore. Thus, your following words have no animosity in them, because the sentiment will finish it off for you, “I’m sure you’ve heard that I’ve come to the capital to marry Premier Kim’s son. Perhaps you should contemplate what me having the most powerful man in the nation as my father-in-law means.”</p><p class="p1">Ten blanches, his handsome golden skin going pure white under his halo of purple hair. It’s a threat you can’t actually follow up on, knowing that Premier Kim would not be okay with you snooping around his personal business like this, but Ten doesn’t know that.</p><p class="p1">“What’s going on out here?”</p><p class="p1">In your quest to get what you needed, you’d totally missed the heaving creak of the other bedroom’s door. Ten doesn’t move, he freezes into place right in front of you. You peek around his torso to see Kyungsoo there in his pajamas, eyeing the pair of you with ultimate suspicion. You wonder if it’s because he’s clued into the fact that you’re scheming, or if it’s because he’s trying to suss out if something <em>more</em> is going on here. Either way, you’ll have to move delicately.</p><p class="p1">“Nothing, just the changing of the guard,” you lie, keeping your face coolly neutral and waving him off with an annoyed hand.</p><p class="p1">Still smarting from the lingering dregs of your fight, Kyungsoo does not buy the excuse at all, prepared to open his mouth and interrogate you further. Thankfully, Ten chooses that moment to snap out of his arrested stance and turn to give Kyungsoo a knowing salute, coming across as just a soldier doing his duty in corralling an errant woman. He takes your arm, though he’s not particularly harsh with the gesture, and pushes you back in the room.</p><p class="p1">“Eleven fifty-five,” he whispers, when the door is open only a crack. “Keep your window unlocked.” The door slides neatly and quietly into place and you’re plunged into isolated silence - the TV having, ironically, gone to sleep during your absence from the room.</p><p class="p1">You could be walking into a trap, but you have very little to lose at this point to not go.A flick of your eyes to the clock reads eleven thirty two, twenty three minutes until the time Ten had surreptitiously passed off. You spend those twenty three minutes, from the very first turn of the second hand until the last, pacing the room, head empty. If you were asked, you couldn’t give a single detail of what sort of internal monologue had taken place during that block of glacial time. All you can do is watch your feet traverse the same unbroken path among your floorboards, back and forth, back and forth.</p><p class="p1">At your hundred and twelfth pace of the room, the wall before you illuminates with a beam of light. You pause by the corner of your bed, unsure if it’s come from a car passing on the back road. But it comes again, and again, and once you’ve counted ten pointed flashes, you walk over to the window by your bed. Your own hand sharply slaps against your mouth, working in haste to muffle your surprised yelp, seeing Ten crouched on the balance beam’s width of banister on the outside of your second story window. He’s perched there with the grace of a dancer, unfazed.</p><p class="p1">You rush to throw the sash up, but he doesn’t come in, he only repositions himself so he can hold out an arm and beckon you forward. Ten doesn’t speak a word, not wanting to risk any sort of alarm being set off, but you know what he’s ordering — for you to go with him. A rush of cool night air, sharp and intoxicating with the fresh October autumn, caresses the skin of your exposed neck, and you’re convinced, not that you were seriously considering otherwise.</p><p class="p1">You clamber onto Ten’s back, his hands going to grip at your legs. This time you actually let out a yelp of fear when, without warning, he closes the window and catapults onto the nearest sturdy branch of the ash tree by the house. With great skill and strength, considering he’s holding every bit of your weight, Ten shimmies all the way down the trunk of the tree and heaves you onto the ground with a sharp exhale. You don’t have time to straighten out your ridden up sweater before he presses you into the bushes by the property’s edge, hurrying you along as fast as you can go. You follow behind him closely, your hands firmly clasped around his bicep as he leads you through the dark shadows you’re unaccustomed to. The expansive grounds you haven’t explored are plunged into darkness, you just have to trust that he’s not leading you anywhere nefarious.</p><p class="p1">After a few more minutes of hurrying, you turn off the dirt pathway onto a sidewalk that’s so brightly illuminated in the night you have to squint to make out where you are. Only to realize Ten’s brought you right onto the busiest main street in Pandora’s city center, ten or so yards down from the huge iron gates that block off the driveway into the Premier’s residence. Despite the late hour, the area is bustling with bar-goers and late night partiers. Together, the two of you — dressed in nondescript all black — look like just another pair of friends in an evening on the town. Walking freely, your sense of danger dissipated in Ten’s steadfast care of you, you feel awkward that you’d ever had to stoop to what you’d done before.</p><p class="p1">“I am….” you begin, halting in your apology, “truly quite sorry for earlier.”</p><p class="p1">Ten doesn’t appear particularly mad, in fact, his face breaks out into a wistful smile as he divulges, “My family lives in Black Pearl Cove. I faked my bloodline so I could get this job and send money to them.”</p><p class="p1">A particularly vicious gust of wind bursts through you, coupling with your harsh wince. You’d no idea that Ten was from Elyxion. Perhaps your view was still prejudiced in assuming that he was from Pandora or Neozone.</p><p class="p1">“Oh shit,” you curse, before letting another apology flow freely, “Oh god, I shouldn’t have threatened you, I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“Michael… he found out by accident one day. And gave me truly, so much money to help,” Ten spins the sad, yet simultaneously most unsurprising and heartwarming, story about Michael. “You don’t…?” The question is easy enough for you to fill the blanks on your own, <em>you don’t believe what they’re saying about him on the news?</em></p><p class="p1">“I don’t,” you affirm.</p><p class="p1">As you look at Ten, relieved face illuminated under the streetlight, you feel such a churn of regret for how his life had turned out. He’s your age, he should’ve gone to college to pursue his dreams, he should’ve been your actual friend under a different set of circumstances. Instead, he’d been obliged to join the Special Forces just to make ends meet for his family, willingly put himself in danger every day to keep pretending. And here you both are, taking what feels like a dangerously illegal walk to see a wrongfully imprisoned man.</p><p class="p1">As he continues the brisk pace, Ten finally feels comfortable enough to explain, “I know the guy who has the night shift tonight. Managed to switch our schedules so I’m on duty. Won’t be that long, though, I have twenty minutes until the additional guard is supposed to join me.”</p><p class="p1">Twenty minutes is absolutely nothing, but you’d take a second even if you had to. “It’s fine. Not even his lawyer has been able to see him?”</p><p class="p1">“No clue, but probably no.”</p><p class="p1">You turn onto the residential block, and Ten comes to a halt in front of the second of four identical high-rise apartment buildings. You halt out of confusion that he’s suddenly stopped moving after nearly breaking a speed walking record over here, but he hasn’t done this randomly. He’s pinning his badge on in preparation to go inside.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, this is it?” you ask, dumbfounded. “Seriously?” This nondescript luxury apartment complex is one that you can see from the dining room of the residence.</p><p class="p1">He matches your befuddled expression with one of his own, too cliché to say <em>it’s so close yet so far</em>, and confirms, “Yeah. No one would ever look here, it’s too obvious.” Ten points to what looks like an impassably tiny crack between the building and its neighbor, and instructs, “Go that way, emergency exit at the end that I’ll unlock. No cameras there. Up six floors on the staircase, I’ll meet you at the door.”</p><p class="p1">You want to tell him you doubt a human can fit in that space, but he’s already throwing on his best casual air and strolling through the automated doors of the entrance. You do the same, jogging over to the secluded area he’d pointed out and examining the opening, finding it to be barely big enough for you to fit in. You have to shimmy into the crack sideways, your torso squeezed by the concrete, but it eventually opens up into a dead end square, marked by an emergency exit door that pulls open with an easy tug.</p><p class="p1">As you climb up the water-stained concrete stairs, you remind yourself, harsh and punishing, that you have to cull your expectations severely. This isn’t going to be some overjoyed, over-the-top reunion where you run into each others’ arms in a field of flowers and all of Michael’s problems are instantaneously solved. In fact, you don’t even have solid proof that he’s what’s awaiting you at this mysterious sixth floor. Or worse, you’re going to show up and discover any sort of unimaginable horrors you don’t want to think about.</p><p class="p1">The exit on the sixth floor is already propped open, the tip of Ten’s sneaker visible through the crack, and he corrals you in the direction of the only door in the hallway. It’s an eerie sight, this corridor should be lined with a dozen apartments, but instead, you’re staring only at a blank white door, no markings, no signs of life.</p><p class="p1">“He’ll be in there,” Ten murmurs, stepping back to allow you the full range of personal space. “I’ll knock when it’s time.”</p><p class="p1">The moment your hand comes into contact with the harshly cool metal of the doorknob, your eyelids flutter closed. A thirty two degree twist of the doorknob to the right, and the door gives way. You feel silly, keeping your eyes shut like this even as you feel the space in front of you opening up, but you don’t want to be crushed if you’re met with devastating reality. Your own voice is something you can’t even recognize, more than a little sad and full of fear as you whisper,</p><p class="p1">“Michael?”</p><p class="p1">“Kiddo?”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes shoot open.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael is truly blessed with a historical line of good genes, because he looks handsome, even in these drab, shapeless grey sweats they have him in. Of course, the dark circles under his eyes and the nervous twitch of his thumbs belie his true feelings, but Michael is looking surprisingly okay for the situation he’s in. The studio apartment setup is small, only a couple hundred square feet, a bed, bathroom, and not much else. How terrible, that it’s a blessing he’s being held in somewhere like this and not in an actual prison. </span>
</p><p class="p1">“Kiddo, what are you doing here?” he breathes out, having sunk down onto the corner of his bed in his disbelief of seeing you actually present in the room.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Wicked emotion running fraught in your body, you feel a teardrop cascade out of your eye before you murmur, </span>“Came to visit my pops once.” And then you’re in his arms. There is no kind of hug in the world that can compare to this, hugging Michael is entering a different echelon of care, the one gesture that plainly says, <em>you’re alright, you’re here with me now. </em></p><p class="p1">As soon as you sit on the bed beside him, his worry breaks loose, “No, y/n, you shouldn’t be here. Why are you here? How?”</p><p class="p1">You shake your head, grabbing his hands to calm him down and explaining quickly, “Ten brought me, but there’s no time. <span class="s1">What exactly did the Special Forces say to you when they took you in?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s eyebrows furrow in concentration and then he slowly repeats the information, “They only read my charges. Assault… for punching fucking Jefferson Jung like he deserved. Domestic terrorism, for the bombing of XM, and first degree murder, for the poisoning of Premier Park.” He rubs a tired hand all over his face and grumbles, “It has been radio silence ever since.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you haven’t seen anyone, not even Kyuhyun?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, they would never let me see Kyuhyun.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His stark denial of the idea he should’ve seen his lawyer by now is a huge red flag to you. Of course, it lines up with the information you knew back in Neozone, and what Ten told you on your way over, but enough time has passed by now that you thought he would’ve been able to have a rendezvous with the litigator. You ask, “Why? Due process still applies. You should’ve had a lawyer here right away, it’s only fair.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Kiddo,” he says with a sigh, rubbing your head like you’re an innocent child. “Do you think any of this is fair?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The answer is immediate, and you feel dumb for not realizing it, “No, no, absolutely not. But I still don’t understand, why would they blame you for something like that? Or Regent Oh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that at all,” he admits. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With little to no forms of personal entertainment visible within this confined space, he must’ve done more than his fair share of ruminating over what events may or may not have led to these baffling consequences. But knowing full well he didn’t and never would’ve ever considered doing something as horrible as murdering a past Premier, you’re not sure what other conclusions he may have come up with. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mark told me how you got into politics because Premier Park suggested you do so after your wife…” you start, intending to loop back around to your point about this not making sense. But all of your expelled air catches in your throat when you remember the last time you’d seen Michael, how he’d stood in the doorway of your home as you and the boys loaded into the van you drove to Zero Mile. It’s silent in the room, yet you’re still not sure your whisper is actually heard, “Your wife.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y/n.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You realize you’ve committed a grave error by stopping yourself in that way, because when you glance at Michael’s face he appears a hairline’s fracture away from shattering with the thought that you’ve found no trace of his wife… or worse, that you found her dead. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Two or three more teardrops, maybe even a dozen rosebuds more of dew pinprick down your cheeks. Then, you smile, soft, buttery, tender, bowed with honor that you have the privilege to tell him, “She is at my home, with my parents. And with Mark.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“O-oh,” he stutters. “Oh my god.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For the very first time that you’ve seen, Michael breaks down into tears. You’ve seen him frothing in emotion before, after you gifted him the tulip jacket, at your high school and college graduations, when you’d woken up back in Neozone after Jeno. Not once have you seen him openly sob like this, perhaps because you were not conscious during Jeno’s funeral. However, even in the footage you’d gone back and watched, he’d held it together as much as possible. This is a sight to behold, him sobbing into his hands, raw and relieving and seared into your memory forever. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re about to reach for him again, to offer the warm hug this time and explain the story, when he does what you don’t expect at all. He gets on his knees right before you and starts to beg, pleading and heartbroken, “Listen to me, get out of here, go back home. Protect Jeongah and Mark, you can leave me here. I’ll figure it out somehow.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">You know exactly where this is coming from - now that he has confirmation his wife is safe, he’ll literally stop at nothing to keep it that way. But he needs to stop looking at this through the lens of altruism. You carefully climb off the couch so not as to startle him, and when you’re gently crouched by his side, fingers brushing over the hand he’s still crying into, you deny his request, “I cannot. Now that I have returned, they intend to marry me to the Premier’s son.”</p><p class="p1">He looks up in confusion, trying to wipe away the slickness, “But Jaehyun…”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly. “I had to lie and say you forced us to get married. And, as expected, Mr. Jung was foaming at the mouth to get the previous one dissolved.”</p><p class="p1">He laugh-sobs, a wretched little melodic note, and finds some strength within him to joke along, “It’s fine, I think that’s considered a lesser charge compared to <em>murder</em>.” You laugh-cry along, offering up the tiniest square of your sweater sleeve to dab at his cheek. You’re about to spill the truth, tell him everything you know about Jaehyun’s dad, when Michael looks at you curiously, a parental twinkle coming back into his eye as he asks, “Was that your intention?”</p><p class="p1">“Of course,” you affirm, under the assumption he’s asking about your return to the Pandora on his behalf. “It was an inside track to the capital I had to take.”</p><p class="p1">Michael’s hand closes over yours, and he shakes his head as he clarifies in a quiet voice, “No. Was it ever your intention to <em>marry my nephew</em>?”</p><p class="p1">It was only your intention once, and even then, it hadn’t really been <em>your</em> intention. In that other life, a life of what ifs and circumstance, maybe it would’ve been lovely intention to marry Kyungsoo under the veil of the moon. But, you’d ended up with a splendid sunrise instead.</p><p class="p1">“No,” you confirm, unable to help how sappy and soft your voice gets, “Jae and I, before I left. Our flowers blossomed.” Michael is completely devoid of a reaction, so you add it in carefully, “Jeno knew.”</p><p class="p1">With two words and a lifetime of context, Michael registers that his son knowing means that you’d told him this information in your sweetly awful final conversation. That you - intensely private, anxious, closed off you - had been willing to burden yourself with the reveal just to make Jeno happy. He’s seen far, far less of the background of you and Jaehyun than Mark or your friends ever had, but that is enough to send the first ray of a genuine smile across his face.</p><p class="p1">When he lets out another little sob, it is not quite so heartbroken this time, “Oh my gosh, kiddo. I am so, so happy for you.”</p><p class="p1">Together, crouched on the floor, you and Michael hug once more, satisfied with your lives for only that one snapshot of time.</p><p class="p1">One sharp rap on the door peals into the room. Though Ten doesn’t open it, you hear his muffled warning from the other side, “Time.” That means your twenty minutes are up. Twenty minutes is nothing, you haven’t even attempted to broach the tsunami of evidence you need comb through, yet you’re already being ripped away from Michael like this.</p><p class="p1">You don’t want to go, you don’t, you can’t go, but Michael is already lifting you up off the floor, urging you along so you don’t get caught here with him. You doubt these words will bring much comfort, but you have to offer them, “I don’t know what I can do, but I’m here. I’ll do anything.”</p><p class="p1">Michael smiles sadly, on the same wavelength as you, and he warns, “Be careful. Remember what I told you and Mark all those times.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t go asking for a fight,” you recall, wishing desperately you were that young and naive again. “I know.”</p><p class="p1">He blows you a kiss, something you know he would’ve done if you were his actual child and grew up under his protection, and he whispers,“Love you, sweetheart. Love you.”</p><p class="p1">Because you’re a selfish girl who can’t handle the image of him sitting alone in the middle of his personal hell, you turn and flee the room without a goodbye. You need to preserve the memory of you two sitting there, in that one second of happy bliss. Ten can somehow sense this, because he finally breaks the barrier of friendly contact to put a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly when you turn to see the door closed behind you, to your paradoxical dismay.</p><p class="p1">“Do you…” you mumble, eyes tracing and re-tracing the frame of the door, “do you have any idea where Regent Oh is? Is he in this building, too?”</p><p class="p1">“No idea. But I’ll ask around as on the down low as I can,” Ten offers, before recognizing your brimming distress, and going even further with his promise, “you won’t be able to visit for some time, because it will look obvious if I try to change the schedules again. But we will try.”</p><p class="p1">You have to clear your throat to be steady enough to answer, “Of course, I understand.”</p><p class="p1">“You remember your way back? Make sure to take the service entrance onto grounds. The cameras and lights flicker on and off at the turn of the hour so you should be good to go.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t know where you’d be without his magnanimous generosity, and with abandon, you cross the line of physical touch to hug him, beyond touched for what he’s done for you, “Thank you. Thank you so much, Ten.”</p><p class="p1">You retrace your steps as carefully as possible.</p><p class="p1">Once the emergency door at the bottom of the stairs is closed in full, you encase your hands in your sweater as you sneak back out the crack in the buildings, so that they’re not scraped by the unfinished concrete. You keep to the protection of the trees, and to the pockets of drunk stragglers who are now leaving the bars. You don’t walk up to the iron gate of the residence, you slip between the two chrysanthemum bushes you recognize you’d emerged from, and you lie in wait until the clock on your phone ticks to 12:55.</p><p class="p1">Then, you run like a possessed woman, up the dirt path, through the ivy greens. Though you’ve never actually climbed a tree before - how weird to realize now that this is your first time - you scramble up the ash tree like a right little squirrel. You’re so hopped up on adrenaline that you move with the fluidity of a trained assassin, shimmying right to the end of the branch so you can toe your window back open with the tip of your shoe, and heave yourself across the narrowly open space without fear of falling.</p><p class="p1">Once you’re inside and the window is locked behind you, you don’t have time to collapse in a frenzy of pent up energy. You need to relay this information to the troops. You scramble to the bathroom and rummage with the lid of the toilet to pull out the plastic bag where you’d stashed the burner phone and first send a very urgent text message.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[1:14 am] <b>you:</b> saw ur pops, he’s okay but PLEASE CALL ME.</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Switching from where you’d saved Mark’s number on the burner phone - having discarded your personal one back at your house - you immediately flip to the only other contact in your book. As if you’re seventeen, dialing for the first time on a phone you’d just received, to a contact you don’t know the name of, the call rings, and rings, and rings.</p><p class="p1">And although she’d promised, there’s no answer from Kyungah.</p><p class="p1">Perplexed, and also realizing you’re devastatingly thirsty from your physical exertion, you keep the phone pressed to your ear as you exit the room for a glass of water. The guard who’d been called to take Ten’s place doesn’t even flinch when he sees you emerge, suspecting nothing of your absence. You press the redial button and let the harsh tone of the ring buzz in your ear as you retrieve a glass from the sink. Again, you’re met with the even beep of the dial tone. You call a third time, and once more, she does not pick up the phone. What? It’s late but it’s not that late, especially when she knows you might call at any random point of the day.</p><p class="p1">You’re prepared to call a fifth time, to call all night if you need, determined to reach her before you even call your parents. But before you can hit redial again, you nearly drop the phone at a startling interjection, “Where were you?”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo has once again appeared in the doorway of his room, like he had when he’d walked in on you and Ten. He’s caught you dead in the water, you still have dirt on your clothes, hair a mess, unknown phone pressed to your ear. But the lurking presence of the guard behind you forces you to lie anyways, “In my room? Or am I not allowed to do that now that we’re engaged?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s late.”</p><p class="p1">“There’s twenty four hours in a day, one might like to use them all.”</p><p class="p1">You want to say something far worse than the sarcastic quip you toss in his direction. Like, how you know it’s not true, but you somehow still blame him for all of this anyways. Like, how it feels like sometimes your life would be immeasurably better if you hadn’t crossed paths with him again after the Pandora Building.  You still haven’t forgiven Kyungsoo for anything. You want to be in someone else’s familiar, soothing presence tonight.</p><p class="p1">“Please, come to bed,” he requests, completely ignoring your comment. He looks tired, dead tired, face lined with lack of sleep. But you only cross your arms over your chest, preferred stance as of late, and stand there in stony silence. He lets out a sigh when you continue to not respond, “No? Still?” He gives up, throwing his hands in the air and muttering, “You have a tailor appointment at twelve thirty tomorrow, please be awake by then.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, your highness,” you sneer, and you go back to your bedroom before he can say another word. The argument is quickly forgotten, because you try to call again, and there's still no answer.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for reading! i know this was a slow one but we'll pick back up soon xo. happy thanksgiving to all my american readers!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. myosotis sylvatica</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"If you are to become the future Regent’s wife, there are protocols of behavior which our family must need to follow."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much to everyone who expressed their well-wishes about my (dramatic) saga last week. the plagiarizer deleted their blog and honestly, that's all i really could've asked for. so happy that we can continue on together drama free lol</p><p>tw: brief blood mention</p><p>also, i can't believe i hit 300k words on a story who am i lmfao</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[3:34 am] <b>bumbLEE:</b> thanks</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Thanks. Thanks. Thanks.<em> What the hell does thanks mean, Mark?! </em>You would’ve expected at least a call, but it’s been radio silence from him, from Jaehyun, from your parents, and most frustratingly, from Kyungah. You’d called thirty-three times - according to your outgoing call log - only giving up at the dregs of sunrise so you could attempt to get a few hours of sleep and not risk upsetting Kyungsoo by showing up to whatever the hell this is a haggard mess.</p><p class="p1">“So, what are we going for?”</p><p class="p1">You look up from your phone-induced almost meltdown, not even wanting to ponder what Baekhyun’s inquired about from his seat. He’s draped over the lounge chair in statuesque nonchalance — guards a few feet away, all the shop workers fawning over him in the distance — and you wish you could be as unbothered as he is right now. You want to tell him to shut the hell up and look up whatever it is on his phone where he’s scrolling away instead of bothering you. But you settle for a terse, “I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">He sits up, putting away his own phone and clarifying, “Well yes, you do. You’re from Neozone so you know what we’re supposed to be looking for here.”</p><p class="p1">Ah, right. It’s not whatever the hell this is anymore. You’d received direct notice from the morning guard to come here, this high end tailor shop, so that you could start your fittings for a blossom ceremony dress. How fucking quaint.</p><p class="p1">“Ugh, sorry Baek. I forgot,” you apologize, realizing what he’d been asking before. “A blossom ceremony is a prelude to a wedding, typically both the man and woman wear all white, with white flowers in their hair. Pretty much as fancy as a regular wedding.”</p><p class="p1">You say typically, because when your flower blossomed, you’d been wearing jeans and Baekhyun’s tour t-shirt, and Jaehyun had been in his jogging clothes. And when his flower blossomed, he’d been wearing a pink shirt you’d sewed him, and you were in the Bats jersey that Taeil had hidden you in.</p><p class="p1">As if he was reading your mind, Baekhyun asks, “So, you didn’t have one before you got fake married to your neighbor?”</p><p class="p1">“No. Fake, remember?”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t appear fully convinced that such a thing as a fake marriage exists — though at the time, it had definitely been performed under false pretenses. Baek digs around a little more, “Was that the neighbor who came to my fan sign?”</p><p class="p1">Nearly kicking the floofy little ottoman by your foot in your surprise, you cough-choke on a gulp of air, “What?”</p><p class="p1">Thinking you’ve forgotten an unforgettable reunion, Baekhyun recalls the story in what sounds like such simple terms, “Remember? I pulled you out of the green room because there was some kid who freaked out when he saw my shirt. I thought you said he was your neighbor.”</p><p class="p1">A phrase designed to be so utterly hurtful he wouldn’t have dared cross into your path again. Neighbor.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” you sigh, “yeah, that was him.”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun flashes you a pleased grin, and you hope it’s because he’s cocky about being right, not because he’s connected anymore dots. “Did you ever figure out why he was so freaked out?”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Because I’d left without a word and then you showed up in a shirt that I sewed. To him, that was ruin, because he knew that I only sewed for the people I loved the most. And he thought that wasn’t him anymore.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Because he—,”</p><p class="p1">“Alright, we’re here! Sorry we’re running behind!”</p><p class="p1">The heavy weight of the moment is broken by the ding of the bell over the shop’s entrance. Kyungsoo walks in, accompanied by a mishmash of guards, assistants, and other people you don’t recognize. The clock on the wall reads 12:45, and you wryly think that perhaps you should’ve warned <em>him</em> not to be late.</p><p class="p1">“We…” Baekhyun grumbles, straining to look past Kyungsoo, “who’s we?”</p><p class="p1">You have a better vantage point from where you’re sitting on the waiting room bench, and boy, oh boy, do you have a really fucking bad feeling about what’s going to happen.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo seems pleased as a peach, no trace of yesterday’s tiredness in him as he adjusts his beige day suit, and steps aside to introduce his guest, “Y/n, this is Jennie Kim, one of Dorado’s best designers. Jennie, this is y/n. My fiancée.”</p><p class="p1">Nothing against the woman, you’ve held appreciation for her minimalistic luxury designs, styled off the best of Chanel’s old work. But you can’t think of her and not remember the email you’d typed out to her management, the grit of your hands against the keyboard as you wired the consultant’s fee for her to make Mimi’s gown. You don’t want to find out today what sort of dress she’d made, you’re going to stay willfully ignorant of the details behind Jaehyun’s failed blossom ceremony. Not because it hurts you anymore, but because you’ve seen how much it hurt him to go through that.</p><p class="p1">You can only give her a wan smile, not even a verbal response. She doesn’t seem to pick up on it, already flitting over to the workers and exclaiming, “Ahh, the Premier commissioned me for his own son's blossom ceremony, that’s so exciting!”</p><p class="p1">“Indeed,” you mutter, so only Baekhyun can hear and muffle his chuckle, “quite exciting.”</p><p class="p1">Jennie’s already working, pulling white dress after white dress off the hangers lining the walls, calling back to you as she goes, “What exactly are you looking for?”</p><p class="p1">You, well, you’ve never really thought about it. At the moment you were prepared to take the plunge into a pool of girlish fantasies about your future blossom ceremony, your life was utterly ripped apart. Then you came back, and you were convinced you were never going to have one, why tear your heart up even further? By the time your flower actually blossomed, you only really needed to think about a wedding dress. It feels wrong, to tell Jennie Kim what you’ve dreamt of in a wedding dress, when you know you want your mother to sew it.</p><p class="p1">You muster up a polite smile and quietly explain, “Ah, I wasn’t totally expecting that I’d ever have a blossom ceremony, so I haven’t really thought about it. Something simple, no frills, and no open back.”</p><p class="p1">She nods, taking in your request, and combs through the small selection she’s curated for you.She pulls back the curtain of the open display dressing room, and you step inside. You’ve done this before, tried on dresses under less than ideal circumstances, and you compartmentalize yourself back into that feeling. No-nonsense, business only, keeping your sports bra and leggings on as you step into the swath of gauzy tulle. Even the sight of yourself in a white gown for the first time lands with no emotional impact.</p><p class="p1">Mostly because Jennie is conversing with Kyungsoo as they wait, and you’re far more preoccupied with listening in on that, “So, tell me the details, I want to know it all!”</p><p class="p1">“Well, we’ve known each other about two years now, met on a very coincidental trip y/n took to Pandora, then didn’t see each other again for over a year. I took a chance visit back to my home in Neozone with a friend, ran into her at the train station, and it’s been us ever since.” It sounds a hell of a lot less charming than the time he’d told it to Jessica, the clerk who’d almost married you. Back then, it was full of nuance and hidden grief, a story that only the two of you could share. But now it sounds outlandish and vaguely ironic, more so that he comes across as almost making fun of it.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Jennie chirps.</p><p class="p1">“We’ve only now been able to decide we wanted to have a ceremony in preparation for our marriage,” Kyungsoo fucking lies, because no one outside of your little bubble of wretchedness could know the actual truth.</p><p class="p1">“Waaaait for it,” she drags out the knowing phrase, then she pulls back the curtain to reveal you.</p><p class="p1">You’re caught like game staring down the barrel of a gun, hackles up at being caught off guard in such a moment of vulnerability. With no warning, it hits you all at once, Jennie’s pleased grin to see you in her dress, Baekhyun’s stunned appreciation as he blankly gapes yet somehow still raises his phone to snap a pic. And Kyungsoo, when he takes in the splendid sight of you, his hand slips on the arm of the chair he’s sitting in in his astonishment. You feel such a cold rush of goosebumps you’re compelled into sitting down, but Jennie gives you no opportunity to, immediately walking over and gathering up the bunches of loose fabric on the back side of the gown.</p><p class="p1">“Have you two looked up your flowers yet?” she asks curiously as she begins to pin away the ill-fitting pieces. “Is that a thing in Neozone still? My wife Rosie and I had both looked ours up before our ceremony. Mine is a poppy, hers is a red rose, which, you know, makes sense.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” Kyungsoo muses, voice moony as you catch him continuing to stare through the mirror, “most kids still look it up at sixteen when they’re able to. Mine’s the cyclamen.”</p><p class="p1">Jennie peers at you through the reflective surface, pins in her mouth as she works but expression conveying her question, <em>What about you? </em>You really don’t like where you know this is going to go.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know mine,” you mumble, hoping that coming off reluctant will force her to change the subject.</p><p class="p1">But Kyungsoo, damn him, gives you absolutely no room to function when he interrupts in confusion, “You do, though. You said you did.”</p><p class="p1">He’s right, you did. Not in exact words, but he’d finished your thought off for himself.<em>You’re waiting to first tell that boy you want to marry? </em>And he even knew, at that time, that you weren’t referring to him. Which is why this change of heart is so baffling to you.</p><p class="p1">You’re contemplating just exactly what you’ll say in return to get both of them off your case, when you’re saved by Jennie stepping back to unveil her alterations to the garment, hand holding together the fabric she couldn't pin. You’re surprised, though, because you can still feel the hot fan of the heater against the bare skin of your torso, and you turn to get a better look in the mirror. Though, thankfully, most of your skin is covered by the sports bra you’d left on, you can see the cratering peek of your scar that she’s somehow missed in her distraction talking to Kyungsoo about nonsense blossom things.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, I thought I told you, I don’t want any exposed back,” you gently remind her.</p><p class="p1">You assume she’ll correct her error when she steps forward again to gather a bit more of the material. But she voices something else, “Oh don’t worry, only the top of your torso will be exposed. Besides, having some open back is what’s in trend nowadays.”</p><p class="p1">This is not about a trend, this is about your dignity. From where she’s holding the back of the dress together, you can tell there will be about half a foot of your scar left out to the open if you were to wear it without a bra, as intended. And you just can’t have that.</p><p class="p1">“You haven’t gathered the fabric enough.”</p><p class="p1">“You don’t want it to be like a turtleneck in the back though, especially because this one has such a low front. Let me put a pin in it.”</p><p class="p1">“I said, you haven’t gathered the fabric high enough.”</p><p class="p1">Not expecting you to argue back in such a ferocious way, Jennie blusters, beautiful features pinching in her face as she starts to go on the defensive, “I know what I’m doing.”</p><p class="p1">“Do you?” you goad her on, only willing to let this go if she admits her mistake.</p><p class="p1">She doesn’t, haughty air coming on as she declares, “I’m Dorado’s best seamstress, of course.” Though you would never classify yourself as a cocky individual, you can say for sure that you are <em>the</em> best. Because you never would’ve treated your clients in this way.</p><p class="p1">“Take your hand off, then,” you order. You feel the shake of her fingers around the fabric, but she doesn’t let go. You glare at her in the mirror, and your voice comes out deathly dark, “Take your hand off.”</p><p class="p1">Seized with fear, Jennie drops her hand from where she’d been holding the fabric, and you just know everyone gets a full blast of your scar when you hear the dismayed titters coming from behind you. In a flash you begin peeling the dress off, first the straps so you can immediately pull on your sweatshirt and no longer have any skin of your torso exposed.</p><p class="p1">But doing so reveals even more of the marking, and you hear Jennie’s horrified — and you know involuntary — gasp, “Oh my god, what is that.”</p><p class="p1">You pull the hem down, so that the bottommost stretch of marked skin is covered, but it’s too late. “That, is why I said I wanted no open back, bitch,” you curse at her, no semblance of control left as you literally kick the rest of the dress off your body. You’re yelling as she cowers now, your vision is hued only in this particular shade of angry red, “Do you want to see all of it? Huh? You already wanted to know my flower so may as well know all of my personal secrets!” You pull your sweater back up, with the hem of your bra too, laying out almost the entire foot and a half of gore, and you challenge her,“Look at it then, if you didn’t want to take my request seriously!”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” she’s somehow crying, like she’s the one hurt most in all of this.</p><p class="p1">You put on your shoes and grab your bag, wanting to leave the room with some sort of dignity, knowing you behaved in a less than appropriate manner. But you’re so angry, and so hurt, even still, that you want to make it personal for her, like she’s made it personal for you. So you do, you stop by the door and fix her with a saccharinely sweet smile, then add in a full dose of vitriol designed to actually hurt her, “You call yourself Dorado’s best seamstress, please. I could’ve sewn your shitty ass clothes when I was ten.”</p><p class="p1">You exit the shop, and you are really, so, so fucking angry. You don’t know if it’s a byproduct of being here on your own, considering when you were back in Neozone you’d had the fantasy of wearing a backless wedding dress. But in your isolation, it still hurts in the same keen way - how that one devastating blow had been the start to it all, how you’d been so incapacitated by that pain you’d given your assailant the perfect window of opportunity to murder your baby brother.</p><p class="p1">You register the sound of someone running up to you, and Baekhyun’s shocked voice cascades into your ear, “W-what. What happened there?” You keep walking, head down as you try to steam off some of your fury, and he lets out a disbelieving laugh, “I mean it was entertaining as fuck, <em>no open back, bitch</em> is probably going to be the title of my next single. But like….?”</p><p class="p1">You stop in the middle of the sidewalk and look to him, his face red from the exertion needed to catch up to you, and you grumble, “Why are you here?”</p><p class="p1">“Well, it’s obvious you were upset.”</p><p class="p1">“No, why are <em>you</em> here,” you fix the emphasis in your voice. You love Baekhyun, really, he’s in the tier of your close friends right below John, Yuta, and Mark. But he’s not the one preparing to marry you right now.</p><p class="p1">Just at that moment, like your words had summoned him, Kyungsoo comes running up, guards at his heels. He pushes at your shoulder with a harsh, “What the fuck was that!”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, it’s somehow my fault?!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> y</span>ou ask, in stunned disbelief that he blames you even a bit.</p><p class="p1">“Yes, you were rude as shit!”</p><p class="p1">“Rude as shit about the one thing that is still a memory of what happened, real nice, dude. Thank you for that.”</p><p class="p1">He registers your sarcasm, that you hadn’t actually made a scene for the sake of making a scene, and a drop of animosity dissipates from his voice, “It’s not about the scar, you’re allowed to feel however you want about it—,”</p><p class="p1">You cut him off, “It must be soooo nice for you, Kyungsoo, to have all of your permanent reminders cleared up so nicely. To be able to live your life freely with no worries. Sounds really nice, honestly.”</p><p class="p1">You’d never spoken about the scar in the times you’d shared together, discussed any of the heavy memory it inspired, picked apart the horrific nightmares it’d starred in. He’d seen it in the countless times you’d ended wrapped up together in bed and knew none of the true feelings behind it. Of course, a lot of the blame for his ignorance could be placed on you. You’d always let him drag his fingers over your scar in whatever manner that pleased him, in an effort to get rid of the memory of Jaehyun doing the same.</p><p class="p1">At first you’d thought there was additional silence was coming from his end, out of respect from the trauma that you still held. But you’d come to realize that it's you causing the silence instead, borne out of your jealousy - that no one could look at him and be reminded of that horrible week. He didn’t have to look at his body in the mirror and get bombarded by the sharp pinpricks of memory. There was truly only one person who could never make you feel bad about this seemingly everlasting brand. While you would’ve felt comfortable telling Kyungsoo the truth of this at some point in your old relationship, the new version of it leaves you no breathing room to do so.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n…”</p><p class="p1">“Get whatever the fuck you want done to the dress. Just leave me alone,” you order, briskly walking away from him before he can put his hand on you to stop you.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">As you look down to your black heels, lined up neatly against the seam of a floor tile, you momentarily tremble in fear when a pair of black boots come to a stop beside you. You’re still not used to the comings and goings of the Pandora guards in your proximity. But this one has a familiar voice, dipped low in a whisper, “Still no word on Regent Oh.”</p><p class="p1">You glance up to see Ten beside you, eyes trained forward as he surveys the crowd of waiting people. You match him, not looking in his way when you ask, “Nothing?”</p><p class="p1">“Nothing,” he confirms, then gives you extra details, “nobody seems to know where he is. I’m honestly not even sure he’s here in Pandora. Looked up new tenants in the typical holding complexes, and only one was registered, the one Michael’s in now.”</p><p class="p1">“What the hell?” you curse under your breath, shocked by the news. Everyone had seen him get arrested, and a national investigation means they were taken to Pandora, not kept in their home region for prosecution. This feels off.</p><p class="p1">From your periphery, you catch Ten’s nod of agreement, that he also thinks it’s bizarre, “I’ll keep digging, but I really need to be careful. My commanding officer thought it was strange I stayed late at the archives.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t get involved if you don’t have to. This enough for now,” you warn him, not wanting him to get in trouble on your behalf, especially considering his family plight. “Thanks.”</p><p class="p1">He nods, tiny smile dashing across his lips, and he marches away to continue patrolling the masses.</p><p class="p1">“What was that?” You don’t even need to look over to know it’s Kyungsoo. You roll your eyes and sneer silently, prepared to walk off and not dignify him with a response. He senses it too and asks, “Are you still not speaking to me?”</p><p class="p1">You still don’t turn, your harsh phrasing is lost to the space before you, “<em>Leave me alone</em> doesn’t have a time frame attached to it.”</p><p class="p1">He sighs, that familiar weariness creeping up on him that was previously lost while he was out in public being the Premier’s son. He tends not to be so pompous in private, but he’s going against the grain here when he reminds you in condescension, “You really can’t be going around calling people bitches in public.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, but that means I can use it in private? Great, thanks <em>bitch.</em>” You know he’ll be annoyed by you utilizing that loophole, and you’re already geared up for a fight, “You wouldn’t think I would be bothered by the way she treated me?”</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t know it bothered you!”</p><p class="p1">“Didn’t know it bothered…” you trail off. Yes, you’d given him leeway to take his sweet liberties in smoothing his hands every which way over your scar, but only <em>in private. </em>You’d steadfastly kept it covered otherwise, you’re not sure any one of his other friends knows exactly what it looks like, not Suho, not Kai, not even Baekhyun. Is he being purposefully ignorant right now?</p><p class="p1">You glance over at Kyungsoo, who’s smiling and nodding to the passersby who recognize him, lost in a cloud of privilege you can’t comprehend. You grab his arm harshly, forcing him to turn and face you, to soak in your displeasure as you simmer, “Okay, fine, do you want to know just how much it bothers me? Do you really? I haven’t worn a tank top in a year, a swimsuit, even more. Scarves in the winter and the summer, turtlenecks, every shirt, every dress, everything I wear designed not to show it in any way!”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo freezes, you can see the cogs in his mind whirring as he tries to put the puzzle pieces together. He fits the most twisted one into place, that this whole time you somehow haven't been as open to him about your feelings as he thought you were, and the corner of his mouth dips in a frown. He starts to excuse his behavior, “I didn’t notice —,”</p><p class="p1">“Ooooh yeah, because <em>I’m Kyungsoo and my mother-in-law was a nurse, so she healed up all my scars nicely</em>, and I didn’t even think that the person I call my <em>fiancée</em> could still be upset by it…”</p><p class="p1">The barb about Luna’s mother had been perfectly placed to make him uncomfortable, he bristles in his suit jacket and mutters, “Did you have to go there?”</p><p class="p1">“I wouldn’t have went there if you hadn’t gone there first,” you say with total honesty. “You—,”</p><p class="p1">“Ms. Y/l/n, a word.”</p><p class="p1">You’re overcome with dread at the curt phase, forgotten end of your sentence dissipating into nothingness with your returning fear. Taking your sweet time to turn away from Kyungsoo to see who’s approached you, you fist your hands into the skirt of your dress with your anxiety, knowing the scolding you’re about to receive. Like you’re a petulant child, you bow your head in front of Premier Kim and Vice Premier Jung, both of them observing you with the same kind of disdain a petulant child deserves.</p><p class="p1">Though, to his credit, Premier Kim doesn’t immediately explode, he starts off with a stern lecture, “Y/n, if you are to become the future Regent’s wife, there are protocols of behavior which our family must need to follow.”</p><p class="p1">“Sir—,”</p><p class="p1">“This is not Neozone anymore, a city where you could seemingly do anything you want and never face the consequences for it.”</p><p class="p1">You’re sure you’re not supposed to argue with the most powerful man in the nation, but you have to defend yourself, “I did not do <em>anything I wanted.</em>” Did he know that up until the beginning of this year, most of the time you’d spent in Neozonehad been sequestered away in your own home, too scared to do much else? Probably not, he’s only thinking of the way you’d made a scene with Jaehyun at the party.</p><p class="p1">“Do you think young women in Dorado are free to say whatever they like and to traipse about with a legion of young men?” Jaehyun’s father asks in disdain, knowing the exact ins and outs of your life in a way his friend couldn’t.</p><p class="p1">Um, yes? This is the twenty first century? You can always count on Mr. Jung to hit you with the cruel blow of his ill-concealed dislike of you. How wonderful he’s decided to include slut shaming this time around. You didn’t <em>traipse </em>around with the boys, they are your friends, your very best friends. And even if you had, it should’ve never mattered to him.</p><p class="p1">“I suppose it is a free nation, no?” you ask innocently, daring them to instruct you otherwise.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim puts a hand on his comrade’s shoulder, to get him to back down so he can concede, “Well, you are technically correct.” Before turning it into a line of rhetorical questioning, “But how many of those young women have a direct line to the Premiership? Are fortunate enough to be entered into a partnership with the next Premier himself?”</p><p class="p1">Fortunate might not be the exact word you’d use, but okay.</p><p class="p1">“There’s no need to have a set of written out, regulated rules of decorum, per se. I certainly believe you to be intelligent enough to not require much further instruction.” Premier Kim clearly thinks he’s coming across as being accommodating, by not giving you a pre-planned list of protocols to follow. But you’re certainly intelligent enough to interpret his unsaid words,<em> sit down, shut up, look pretty, and that’s it.</em></p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s father takes specific action to twist in a cruel knife you’ve always hated with his reminder, “I have tried to promote you as the icon of our region, it’s time you take initiative to become that on your own.”</p><p class="p1">Sit down, shut up, look pretty. You incline your head again with a coquettish smile and concede, “Of course, Vice Premier.”</p><p class="p1">Pleased that you’ve taken their words to heart, plus the fact that Taeyeon is signaling for them to get into place, both of the men stride away from you, confident that you’ll fall into line from now on. You start to head over to the section they’ve sequestered away for VIP guests when you sense Kyungsoo’s re-approach, hear his low, “Please, just do what he says.”</p><p class="p1">You keep the ladylike smile plastered on your face, but your words are anything but, “Because that means I’ll be silent, right? I can only imagine how he expects a proper Neozone lady to act. Compliant, charming, cordial.”</p><p class="p1">He glances around in panic, hoping that no one’s listening in, “Shh—,”</p><p class="p1">“Are you kidding me—,”</p><p class="p1">“Hello, to all of Neozone!” The booming interruption of a microphone coming alive over speakers quickly silences your brewing argument. “This is Siwon Choi coming to you live from the Premier’s household.” The broadcast sign at the front of the formal reception room is lit up, indicating you’re on the air. But you were under the impression this was going to be a speech for the nation. This is usually an all of Dorado type deal. So for them to use Neozone only as an opening statement? Strange.</p><p class="p1">You hate the greasy curl of the reporter’s lip as he proudly brags from his desk, “Today is a great day for all of us citizens, as we will hear from the newly ascended Vice Premier himself, Jefferson Jung, in his first public speech since his promotion.”</p><p class="p1">Mr. Jung takes the prepared podium with haughty ease, Premier Kim standing off to the side in a tableau of political power you weren’t expecting. The older man adjusts his glasses, and smiles warmly to the camera, like he hadn’t just been scolding you only minutes before, “Thank you for the introduction, Mr. Choi, and hello to all citizens of our great region that are watching.”</p><p class="p1">Again, with the Neozone specific greeting. What are they plotting at? There had been nothing else on the official schedule for this week, which means there’s no plans to further address the nation as a whole. You wonder if they’ve somehow gotten Doyoung’s father to cut the broadcast to only one region of the nation. Speeches like these were usually a whole Dorado affair.</p><p class="p1">“I would like to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for putting your faith in me and supporting me as I surrender myself to this great nation. Under the guide of my long time compatriot, our esteemed Premier Kim, it is my sole and utmost goal to bring the citizens of our region the dignity they deserve.”</p><p class="p1">Only, it’s not even his region, and the citizens he’s talking to do not know that.</p><p class="p1">“There are some unforgiving realities of what is happening in this nation that we all must be prepared to face. Previous regimes have schemed in incredibly nefarious ways to conceal these realities from reaching public consumption. I beseech you today to have patience, as we work in great haste to establish the true pillars of our society. That is my sole purpose of standing before you today, addressing our noble region.</p><p class="p1">“Neozone is proud, Neozone is true. We will not let the reckless actions of others undermine the history we have worked so steadily to build. There are no flower fields without the sturdy roots of our ancestry and family, I urge you all to place utmost importance onto these values as we move towards the future together. Thank you.” It’s all a bunch of meaningless platitudes that you know the region will eat up. But all that it truly conveys to you is that you’re running out of time, and you’re totally, cripplingly blind to what’s been going on with your nation’s government.</p><p class="p1">You stalk away and join your guards before Kyungsoo can stop you, or worse, join you in a stroll back to the residences. They’re polite enough to let you walk freely in front of them, not wanting to face the wrath of you they’d encountered yesterday. Better yet, they don’t say a word when you stop in the kitchens for a glass of water to quench your parched throat.</p><p class="p1">That means you’re alone when you hear a not at all concealed, “You need to relax about my son’s fiancée, Jefferson.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t run, you don’t hide, you don’t shimmy your way back to the door to eavesdrop. You stand hunched over the sink, cup in hand, and listen to the fathers of both men who’d played an integral part in your life discuss you without knowing you’re there.</p><p class="p1">“I’m telling you, Jaehyun is not the boy I raised when he’s around her,” Mr. Jung snarls, no pretense left in pretending that he likes you in any way, “they spend far too much time together that her wild upbringing has totally influenced him, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungsoo is not Jaehyun.” Premier Kim’s statement is highly ironic and way too close to home for you not to collapse into yourself over the sink, scared trail of goosebumps tattooing your arms and neck.</p><p class="p1">That apparently isn’t enough to convince Mr. Jung, because he drops a huge ball of fire into the conversation, “I told you I always found him in her house or vice versa, right?!”</p><p class="p1">“You did tell me,” Premier Kim confirms.</p><p class="p1">“Boyoung gave me the controls of Jaehyun's house's security cam back then, I had night guards reporting to me too. He <em>always</em> was at his worst around me after spending time with her. Spouting nonsense about how great Elyxion was, how he wished we could live in peace together.”</p><p class="p1">The clatter of your glass against the counter surely should’ve given you away, but you’re blessedly left in the harrowing silence after that reveal. That’s how Mr. Jung knew. He’d been spying on you this whole time because of a friend’s favor. You’re not entirely convinced that he doesn’t know the more intimate ins and outs of your relationship with his son, because if he’d been watching the security cameras he must’ve seen Jaehyun come to your house that night and not leave. But it’s one shred of an advantage you’ll cling onto as long as possible.</p><p class="p1">“If Michael was the one who orchestrated their false relationship, you shouldn’t take your son’s actions at face value. Ms. y/l/n is the kind of girl who wears her heart on her sleeve. We’ve seen video proof of that before. I don’t think you and your son have to worry about her.” Here’s another sword in your defense - that apparently your mask of denial had been firmly slipped into place to the point that Premier Kim himself had been convinced that you didn’t give a damn about Jaehyun. Your grief with Jeno had been so plain and obvious no one knew it actually forced a complete personality reversal in you right after, forced you to hide away more of you than you ever had.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t want Jaehyun to have anything to do with her anymore,” Mr. Jung’s snarls, before adding in a falsely contrite, sympathetic, “and I don’t want this to happen to Kyungsoo, either.”</p><p class="p1">"I received no warning about her coming to the city from my remaining Elyxion contacts, if she was scheming with them, we would know," Premier Kim divulges, and you can't help but wonder who in Elyxion is spilling (or rather, not) secrets to the capital. "As for her behavior, we're working to smooth the edges out. It's a process."</p><p class="p1">"I'm very concerned...."</p><p class="p1">“Calm down, old friend,” Premier Kim chuckles at his comrade’s agitation. “We’ll get them divorced. You have to remember that this isn’t Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">He’s right, this isn’t Neozone. You have no advantage here. You don’t have Yuta to turn off the security cameras for you, you don’t have the protection of your parents and the oak trees of your old home, nor the care of your best friend or your husband. It’s you, and you alone.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You can’t seem to focus on anything after overhearing the conversation between the Premier and Vice Premier. So far, the only thing you’ve come up with in your contemplation is connecting his words back to Taeyeon’s idea that having an Elyxion woman and a Neozone man bound together in marriage would be a good thing for the country to see. But you don’t understand why, why now, why you, why there had to be so much suffering to bring this about. You and Jaehyun are as equally as valid of an example, now that you know where his father’s from. But that’s just it, you suppose that VP Jung can’t ever let it out that he’s actually from Wolf Way.</p><p class="p1">Your attention is pulled to yet another blaring news report about the state of the country — one that continues to parrot out how the Regents of Neozone feel betrayed by Michael for what he supposedly did. As soon as you reach for the remote to turn it up, the burner phone beside you starts to light up in a call.</p><p class="p1">Thinking it’s Mark, you hurriedly mute the TV to answer, “Hello?’’</p><p class="p1">“Honey, I’m home.”</p><p class="p1">You mash the phone so tightly into your face a cacophony of dial tones sets off from the keys. “John.”</p><p class="p1">Through the speaker, his familiar deep voice comes across scratchy and laborious, but there’s also the same hint of brashness you’ve longed to hear, “I’ve always wanted to use that on you once. Hi, y/n, what’s up with you?”</p><p class="p1">You can’t help the way you get instantly teary in your response, “Not much, handsome, what’s up with you?”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t get all sappy on me now,” he laughs, before breaking out into a fit of coughing that has you once again pressing the phone into your ear. It trails off, enough for him to croak out, “Just want to start by saying I’m incredibly mad at you right now.”</p><p class="p1">“You are?”</p><p class="p1">“This oxygen mask thing won’t let me put much emotion into my voice… so I’ll have you know… I’m very mad.”</p><p class="p1">You’re frozen, perched on the corner of your bed as you contemplate what John could possibly be mad about. He’s probably furious at you for convincing him for going along with the fool’s plan to waltz into Zero Mile and retrieve Mrs. Lee. He’d expressed his reservations, you’d forced him to go along with it, and now here he is, after spending three weeks in a coma since <em>getting shot</em>.</p><p class="p1">But when Johnny starts telling the story, sure with a slight, sly grin you can picture, that’s not where he goes with it, “You know, it’s honestly quite hilarious what happened. I wake up and there’s the requisite hoopla, crying, screaming, thanking god, etcetera etcetera. And while Jae’s over here sobbing his eyes out, I see he’s wearing a gold ring on his wedding finger.” You lie back down onto your comforter, nauseated with the knowledge of what’s looming. He continues on, still light-hearted, “I thought <em>funny, did Jaehyun actually get married when I was in a coma? He didn’t wait for me?</em> And then I realized it wasn’t a ring, but a piece of thread.” You can see it now, the jut of his chin, cock of his eyebrow as he pokes at you, “If you wanted to keep it from me, you should’ve used a color other than the one you used to sew my favorite tie.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh my gosh, I’m so sor—,”</p><p class="p1">He sighs, the explosion of air crackling with effort, but you still can’t pick up on any true rage, “Anyways, he told me all of it, and if I hadn’t been on death’s doorstep I would’ve probably given you both the silent treatment until the new year. But I guess being in a coma hasn’t changed the fact that I’m still kind of a fool and wanted to hear your voice.”</p><p class="p1">You already sense the rush of tears racing to escape from under your eyelids, so, so, so incredibly relieved that he’s alive. You’ve wanted to hear his voice so desperately, too. You’ll apologize forever if it makes him feel better. “I’m sorry, I know there’s a lot of explaining I have to do. I promise I’ll do it as soon as I can, okay? I’m so sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay,” he answers, before switching up the topic, “guess what, though. I had a hot surgeon apparently. She came by with my post-op doctor yesterday.”</p><p class="p1">“John!”</p><p class="p1">“I’m serious! She is… seriously hot.”</p><p class="p1">You think of Wendy, how she was so professional yet couldn’t help the spot of color on her cheeks when talking to you about your friend. Now that she’s no longer his direct caregiver, perhaps he can get back into form by loading up the charm in her direction.</p><p class="p1">You want to get the details of his recovery without making him exert too much so you ask, “Can you give the phone to either Mark or Jae, please? Just for a second. Then you can get back to telling me about the girl who’s going to take my place.”</p><p class="p1">“Neither of them are here.”</p><p class="p1">You sit up again in an instant, “What? They just left you there?”</p><p class="p1">“Nah, that’s why I called. Some weird shit has been happening,” he mutters, letting out a groan as you assume he sits up in his bed.</p><p class="p1">“What? With you?”</p><p class="p1">“No, well. Kind of,” Johnny edits his response, before starting a different story, less captivating than the last one and far more harrowing, “now that I’m awake and functional, the hospital was able to turn over the personal effects they took from me before surgery. My clothes, wallet, stuff like that. So I asked them as a joke if I could have the bullet they dug out of my chest, and they gave it to me.”</p><p class="p1">Of course this manly man’s man wanted the bullet in his chest as a trophy. You tease him, “Was it super mega badass?”</p><p class="p1">You can practically see him preening when he confirms, “Hell yeah it was, and I thought they would love seeing something like that.” There’s a pause, more rustling, and then his tone dips into a whisper as he continues, “But they took one look at it, and you know how Mark goes green like Shrek if he’s uncomfortable? Jae does that thing with his hair when he’s nervous?”</p><p class="p1">“Yup.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, both of those things happened. And they bolted right away, later texted me to call you at this number. Guess they thought you would know more?” What the actual fuck? For them to get that freaked out instantaneously means they know something that you don’t. Maybe something they’ve discovered in your time away?</p><p class="p1">“More about a bullet?” you wonder out loud, continuing to think and coming up with nothing. “I don’t think I’m the expert there. Probably Yu, no? Or you.” They’d spent their preteen years going to the military academy after school, receiving proper educations on how best to protect the sons they were guarding. If anyone knew about weapons, it would be them.</p><p class="p1">Johnny denies your theory without even considering it, “Definitely not either of us. We had to memorize like, every type of bullet ever produced during academy. I could tell from the pieces that wasn’t one of them. And before you ask, they drilled twelve year old me so hard I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”</p><p class="p1">You’re well and truly stumped now, unable to think up a reason that would’ve freaked out Mark and Jaehyun in that manner. “Weird. I will try and call them—,”</p><p class="p1">“No,” John cuts you off with instructions, “Marco said don’t call until he calls first.”</p><p class="p1">You’re too nervous now, not even John’s calm, deep voice can soothe that anxiety you know will percolate until you see the burner phone light up in a call from Mark. This is way too out of character, Mark’s lack of communication coupled with this new information. But you have to remember who you’re speaking to, that Johnny didn’t wake up from a coma just to be bombarded by questions too convoluted to answer. You ask the most important one, “All that aside, are you feeling okay? Like, in that context?”</p><p class="p1">“Nah, I feel so shit dude,” he groans, taking a second to cough with effort once again. “I ache everywhere, breathing hurts like a bitch, my collarbone feels even worse. All I want to do is talk to Dad, but I can’t, and I can’t talk to Mom either because she’ll then tell Dad.”</p><p class="p1">“John, you got <em>shot</em>. I think you can tell your parents now,” you say in sympathy, knowing from personal experience that having parental comfort was what you needed after your devastating injuries. You wish you were there so you could hug him. More than that, you wish <em>Michael</em> was there, because he’d know exactly what to do to comfort his son’s best friend in the nefarious absence of his parental figures.</p><p class="p1">He nobly self-sacrifices himself by denying your offering, “No, and have Dad come back to Neozone? He’s better off being nowhere close to here. I can hold off for everyone’s sake.” He quickly changes the subject so he doesn’t wallow in his misery any further, “And how are you doing? They told me you were in Pandora. That can’t feel good.”</p><p class="p1">“I ache everywhere. Breathing hurts like a bitch, and I haven’t even seen the Pandora Building yet,” you repeat his words, sharing the metaphorical representation of his physical pain. “I miss you,” you whisper, “you were right, hearing your voice makes it feel better.”</p><p class="p1">“Are you happy?” he asks, voice quiet and contemplative, only the beep of his hospital machinery coming through the speaker with it.</p><p class="p1">You’re definitely not. “I just told you, I basically feel like I figuratively got shot every time I go outside here.”</p><p class="p1">“No, not about that,” Johnny murmurs, and you know exactly what he’d been asking.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Are you happy with Jaehyun?</em>
</p><p class="p1">Out of all the people in your life, ending up with your true love has been most unfair to Johnny. He’d been so earnest and open about his feelings for you, even from the beginning, that it feels particularly cruel, to flaunt it in his face that you’d ended up sewn to another. You want to give him a delicate, nuanced explanation, like how carefully you’d threaded the needle to sew him his favorite tie,</p><p class="p1">“I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again. You have the kindest heart I’ve ever known. But he is, I just. I don’t know. He’s something else to me.”</p><p class="p1">“You don’t have to get all Shakespearean on me, it’s a yes or no question,” he says bluntly, not willing at all to process your flowery language. It’s then you realize that perhaps you’ve been doing a disservice to him all along. He’s the strongest out of all your friends, not just in body but in emotion, always willing to serve in the most honest of ways. He deserves honesty in return.</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” you confess. “Yes, I am so happy, John.”</p><p class="p1">There’s silence, and you know he’s rewinding through your history. Picking apart the times you’d been reluctant to bow to his affection, how things had changed drastically once Mimi and Jaehyun had started dating, why you’d been upset about Sunday dinners being taken from you, the fact that your fake marriage was not fake at all. When you see him again, you know you owe him the deepest of apologies, for using him as an unwitting pawn in your darkest throes of denial. Until then, you can only hope he understands.</p><p class="p1">“Good,” he states, then softens into a joke, “I will consider easing up on my anger by Christmas.”</p><p class="p1">You’ll have to get him a really great gift, you tuck the reminder away for later. You sniffle, tearing apart your cracked heart to find a joke to give him in return, “Only the best from Neozone’s bravest soldier.” The laughs cascade away so you can tell him, truthfully, honestly, with your entire cracked heart, “Love you John. Love you a lot.”</p><p class="p1">“I love you, too,” he echoes, the first and last time he’ll get to do so in this way, a perfect, perfect moment.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“So, Jefferson Jung is from Elyxion, who would’ve known.”</p><p class="p1">You look up from the pizza slice you’re stuffing your face with and you nod at Michael before chuckling, “I swear, I thought I was going to have to explain to paramedics why I had two passed out Jungs in my house.”</p><p class="p1">He leans back against the couch, the two of you sat on the floor as you mapped out what happened while he was away, and he muses, “All because Jaekyung finally swallowed her pride and got to know you. Well, that certainly explains why he was always so clingy in college.”</p><p class="p1">“To you?”</p><p class="p1">Michael shrugs, “I mean, yeah, sort of.” He eyes the container of food you’ve brought hungrily, and you press another slice into his hands, knowing they haven’t been feeding him that well. He eats for a bit, then begins his own story, “My parents have long since passed on, you never had the chance to meet them. My great-grandfather died in the Growl Conflict, and my grandfather went on to become a war hero for Neozone in the Mad City Rebellion. He was Taeyong Lee’s right hand man, and there was a time where people wanted to get in our good graces because of who he was.”</p><p class="p1">“What do you mean by that?” you ask, unsure of how Michael’s bloodline legacy ties into this.</p><p class="p1">“Times have changed, but people haven’t. Status is all about who you know, who you’re friends with,” he says knowingly, and you shoot him a grim smile, now understanding what he’s getting at. “College was really the first time I went out in the world and experienced it for myself. Think of when everyone tried to come to your house, that sort of brown nosing. Worst offender was Jefferson.”</p><p class="p1">It’s still surprising, knowing that at one point Jefferson and Michael were close. They were always friendly, from their tangential relationships in the upper echelon of Neozone society, but you hadn’t actually known they were good friends at one point.</p><p class="p1">“We met in a Neozone history class, required for the political science major, and we hit it off. For that one semester, Jefferson would not leave my side. We did everything together, dinners, parties, homework, I mean it when I say we were best friends.” He glances down at the platinum wedding ring still on his finger, and he laughs softly, “But second semester rolled around and I told him I wanted to take an Elyxion folklore class to impress the pretty girl on my floor who seemed fascinated with the subject.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve heard the outline of this story from Kyungah before, of how her sister snuck off to university in the other region just because she wanted to. But to hear it from him, with the charming little details of a proud Neozone boy unknowingly falling for an Elyxion girl, it’s too sweet.</p><p class="p1">You smile at him and nudge his elbow, “Why is that so cute.”</p><p class="p1">He loses himself in the memory, the sweet courtship with his true love, and he sighs, “Because it was.” Gathering himself so he doesn’t go completely sappy, he continues on about Jefferson, “Anyways, out of nowhere, Jeff rushed a high society because he had an in from someone he knew in high school, didn’t tell me, and by the time exams rolled around, we weren’t friends anymore.”</p><p class="p1">Reading between the lines, it’s easy to tell that Jefferson had been less than pleased that Michael had decided to take a class from <em>the other</em> point of view. But perhaps he had been more afraid that Michael would start asking questions that Jefferson couldn’t answer without exposing himself. You muse, “Prejudice runs deep no matter what. Or, I guess in his case, shame.”</p><p class="p1">“I should’ve thought about it more. It was always just something that happened, mostly because I was an absolute fool in love at the time. The rest is history. The person who got him in turned out to be Kyungho, who was the president of that high society. Though he was a senior and we were freshmen, they became best friends, and the four of them did everything together until graduation.”</p><p class="p1">A phrase he’d used piques your curiosity, “Four of them?”</p><p class="p1">“Jefferson, Kyungho, John Suh, Sr., and Boyoung Kim,” he lists off the names, Jaehyun’s father, Premier Kim, then Johnny and Doyoung’s fathers. “People called them the Sons of Neozone. They ruled campus until Kyungho and John Sr. graduated, and even after, Jefferson proudly wore that crown.”</p><p class="p1">You make a face, thinking it a pompous farce of a group to be proud of, “That sounds atrocious.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re telling me. When Kyungho found out that I was Jefferson’s friend, he begged me to join, surely knowing who my grandfather was. Something about fulfilling our bloodlines’ legacies, since our ancestors were comrades on the battlefield. But again…” Michael trails off, leading you to connect the dots.</p><p class="p1">“You were an absolute fool in love.”</p><p class="p1">Michael has never seemed preoccupied with blasting his allegiance to Neozone out in the open, probably due to the heritage of his wife. “I suppose I repaid him back by becoming Vice Premier, but he’s gotten me back again,” he jokes darkly, gesturing to the room, but you can’t even find the fortitude to laugh at that. He backtracks, “Sorry, not funny.”</p><p class="p1">“And Siwon Choi? How does he fit in this? Why would he have taken your wife?”</p><p class="p1">“I have no clue, and especially so about Taeyeon. I know Jaekyung said Siwon might’ve been at Neozone U with us, but he would’ve been a freshman when we were seniors, maybe?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s unbelievable how calm you’re being about this,” you point out.</p><p class="p1">He’s being so practical, so level-headed when discussing the individuals who played a hand in holding his wife hostage for years and years. How can he be like this when you’ve been devastated thinking about Jeno every day? Granted, it’s only been two years of your adult life in comparison to a decade plus of his, but you need his expertise.</p><p class="p1">He lets a wry smile cross his face before admitting, “Well, you didn’t see me the past few weeks as I’ve been sitting here stewing over the news. Wasn’t pretty.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m so sorry—,”</p><p class="p1">Again, he takes the high road, not burdening you any further with details of his breakdown, “It is what it is. She’s safe, we have more pressing things to attend to now. Have you heard anything about Dohun?”</p><p class="p1">You shake your head. “No. Neither has Ten.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m genuinely concerned now. I mean, I’m concerned about it all, but I seriously have a terrible feeling about him,” Michael laments, rubbing at his eyes and expression the same thought you’d had about Seulgi’s father. No news here is definitely not good news.</p><p class="p1">But still, you have to cling to some hope, right, as you remind him, “I mean, I only found you because I knew Ten… and threatened him a little.”</p><p class="p1">“I know, but you still found me,” he points out, dashing away that hope. “The fact that it’s been radio silence… I really don’t know what to think.”</p><p class="p1">“Gotta go, now!”</p><p class="p1">Ten bursts into the room with no preamble from where he’s been standing outside, eyes crazed. You bolt up from the floor, knocking the pizza everywhere, and Michael scrambles on his knees to get it back in the container so you don’t leave any evidence behind of your visit. You stuff your arms into the sleeves of your jacket and then he pushes the box into your hands.Michael kisses you on the cheek, before you whisper, “Sorry, love you, see you soon,” and go running after Ten.</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t stop to explain once you’re out of the apartment, door firmly locked. He only escalates into a sprint, you racing to keep up with him as he gasps, “Fuck, fuck, the door alert went off earlier than intended.” That means someone’s coming up on the elevator on the other end of the floor, right now, only mere seconds away from finding you here.</p><p class="p1">“What do I do?!” you exclaim, panic already coursing through you at breakneck speed.</p><p class="p1">Ten grabs your arm and shoves you into the emergency exit stairwell, ordering, “Run, literally run right back to the Premier’s residence.”</p><p class="p1">“What?!”</p><p class="p1">“Run, I’ll stay here and back you up,” he repeats, before shouting in your face, “Run! Go!”</p><p class="p1">Deranged with fear, you go flying down the stairs, skipping two, three, a whole flight at a time. You’re not sure if you leave the door at the bottom unlocked, and you definitely scrape your whole entire forearm across the concrete of the neighboring apartment complex as you slither your way out from the back entrance. You don’t actively seek out the pocketed protection of the trees and bushes, only beeline forward in a sprint, weaving in and out of the late night crowd, pushing and shoving if you need to get people out of your way.</p><p class="p1">It’s a dumb move not to stop and check the clock, to see if you’re at the point of the night where the cameras will flicker with their hourly reboot, but as you run through the dark, dirt-covered service entrance to the residence, you’re convinced the Pandora soldiers are already out there looking for you. That they’re going to walk into Michael’s holding area and just know that you’d been there. You’ll return home to find them waiting for you and be ripped apart for eternity. You’re moving on autopilot, sneakers catching on the nubs of wood you’ve been trained to find as you climb the ash tree. Descend onto branch, unlock window, jump into room, you’re almost at the close, you’re almost to safety.</p><p class="p1">It all goes nearly perfect.</p><p class="p1">You think you’re even better than Ten in your balletic leap across the small gap until your feet hit the banister at an awkward angle. You nearly lose your balance and your hand shoots out to grab the open frame. But the force necessary to keep you from toppling over rockets your skin right into an unfinished part of the wood, searing a devastating cut right into the palm of your left hand.</p><p class="p1">You fall through the window onto the floor of your bedroom at the sensation of the injury, holding your trembling palm as the crimson blood starts to weep all over your jeans. You feel the burn of something hitting your hand, and realize you’ve broken into involuntary weeping, the bitter, salty tears dripping from your eyes exacerbating your pain as they fall onto your broken skin. You rush to the attached bathroom, throw your hand under a deluge of water as you try to get yourself to stop hysterically sobbing, but more importantly, get the gash to stop bleeding before it actually puts your limb at risk. You hold your hand under the water for what feels like an hour, but the water still swirls in a whirlpool of sick red.</p><p class="p1">You have no choice, you have to leave your room to retrieve extra towels, gauze, anything that can staunch this heavy bleeding. Desperately rummaging through the linen closet, you’re starting to drown in the overwhelming panic. This is too much, it’s the same thing, even though it’s only your hand, you’re cut apart like you were, like <em>he </em>was, you’re not going to arrest the flow in time, you’re going to bleed out right over this floor. White, white, why are all these goddamn towels white, you grab the closest one and hold it to your hand, the fabric fluttering with the tremor of your movements, and in only seconds, it is completely dyed through in deep red. You grab another, and hiss in pain when you press it right into the trench-depth center of your wound.</p><p class="p1">“I heard the door, didn’t realize you were up—,” Kyungsoo’s sleepy voice hazily echoes from behind you. “Are you… are you okay?!”</p><p class="p1">“I, I can’t,” you whimper, unable to keep the towel steady over your wound, this second one starting to stain with crimson too. “I can’t feel my hand, I can’t…”</p><p class="p1">He’s on his knees in a second, taking the towel from you and holding it onto your hand with his steadier fingers. “What happened? What happened?”</p><p class="p1">You can only keep bawling, not registering any nerve sensation in the limb beyond the roaring agony, no motion, no reflexes, and force out the strangled choke, “I can’t feel it, I can’t, I can’t.” Your vision is starting to go blurry, you can’t make out what emotion his face is lined with, you don’t know if it’s because you’re dying or if it’s because you’re crying, you’re still bleeding, you’re going to bleed out on this floor right now.</p><p class="p1">“What’s going on here, sir?” the guards interject, having rushed over after hearing the commotion.</p><p class="p1">In the hazy outlines of your eyesight, Kyungsoo waves a hand away, mouth bursting in an easy excuse, “Sewing accident, give us a second!”</p><p class="p1">His fingers close around the exposed portion of yours, where the towel isn’t covering, and you think you might register the faintest of squeezes he gives you. His other hand gently presses into the back of your head, tucking you into his shoulder as you begin to give in to the exhaustion, burrowing your face into him.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, hey, it’s still here,” he reassures you as he gives your fingers another squeeze. “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.”</p><p class="p1">A melodic little tune you might’ve known once upon a time comes lilting out of his mouth, your eyelids beginning to droop at the sound of a familiar lullaby you’re tired to pick out the lyrics to. With your eyes closed in the cavern of darkness, you’re only greeted by the sight of golden sunshine, warm and comforting upon you from a galaxy away. </p><p class="p1">He must’ve carried you to the bed after you passed out, because you wake up encased in the depths of your cotton quilt the next morning.</p><p class="p1">Sadly, you’re alone, and it’s cloudy outside.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’re on the thousandth re-read of a text that’d pinged into your phone yesterday morning, <em>sorry to scare u, forgot kibum is always early, M is safe, </em>when another message shoots through your phone, the loud notification sound echoing in the already bustling room. You rush to turn off the ringer, groaning in pain when you reflexively use your bandaged hand, then open up your inbox to see,</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[11:35 am]<strong> bumbLEE:</strong> for ur reference<br/>
[11:35 am] <strong>bumbLEE:</strong> [img127.jpg]</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Looking at this image is the utmost priority right now, so you turn to the side in your chair and block the screen from being freely viewed as you open the attachment. The Nokia’s screen is as grainy as ever, but there’s no mistaking the picture that Mark’s sent you. You swallow a hard lump of cold dread, as your scabbed wound gives an involuntary pulse of alarm under the gauze. You press the call button right by his contact, surreptitiously holding the device up to your ear under your hair, but after it rings only once, the call clicks dead, a clear sign Mark had denied the call on his own.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[11:41 am] <strong>you:</strong> answer the phone<br/>
[11:42 am] <strong>bumbLEE:</strong> can’t rn</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Which flower arrangement do you like?”</p><p class="p1">You look up from your phone at the question, not really registering what you’d been asked.Kyungsoo is staring at you with intrigue, forcing you to lower your phone and say, “Sorry, what?” You see the curious face of the florist, standing amongst the blooms she’d set up for you to pick, and you remember what you’re supposed to be doing. You gesture to a bunch of blue and purple flowers that don’t look horrifically over the top, and mutter, “Oh, I think those should be fine.”</p><p class="p1">Then, you’re turning back to your phone, fingers flying away as you prod at Mark.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[11:45 am] <strong>you:</strong> can’t or won’t<br/>
[11:45 am] <strong>bumbLEE:</strong> can’t.</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Can’t. Why can’t he answer? The man is always glued to his phone.</p><p class="p1">“Ma’am, you need to pick more than one. A set will be used for the ceremony location, and a different set will be used for the reception.”</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[11:48 am]<strong> you:</strong> Mark Minhyung Lee answer a fucking call<br/>
[11:49 am] <strong>bumbLEE:</strong> i. can’t.<br/>
[11:49 am] <strong>you:</strong> Why r u there????? Hello?????</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Y/n?” The florist tries to capture your attention again, “Y/n?”</p><p class="p1">Already frustrated that you’re being made to pick out floral arrangements for this joke of a ceremony, you don’t have any problem rolling your eyes at her and ordering, “Give me a second.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t have any pretenses of waiting for her response, or hiding your phone as you begin to openly text Mark in a frenzy, keys clacking loudly as you send the message. Your knee bounces in anticipation for his response, eyes glued to the screen until your inbox lights up with another notification.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[11:49 am] <strong>you:</strong> Mark. Mark answer me right now<br/>
[11:53 am] <strong>bumbLEE:</strong> I. can’t. call.</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Can you come back after lunch maybe? I swear we’ll be twice as efficient with our decision making as we can,” Kyungsoo is maybe saying, but you still have your eyes trained on the screen, can’t look up from the conversation before you know Mark is safe. You need to know that the Pandora Special Forces had somehow not also been sent to Neozone after your fiasco at Michael’s apartment. Sure, Ten had said it was only because his fellow soldier had arrived ahead of schedule, but you can’t believe that until you know.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[12:01 am] <strong>bumbLEE:</strong> Imfine j cnt talk. ly</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You let out an earthquake of a sigh of relief, words from the man himself that he is not in trouble. <em>I’m fine, just can’t talk, love you.</em> Pressing your forehead into your uninjured palm for some semblance of relief from your pounding migraine, you glance up to see the room suddenly empty, save for Kyungsoo and the requisite guards, all staring at you in a mixture of concern and curiosity.</p><p class="p1">“What were you looking at?” he ventures, careful in his interaction with you as he had been since finding you sobbing on the floor with a bloody hand.</p><p class="p1">You prick with discomfort at the sight of the guards. Thinking quick on your feet, you raise a coy shoulder and load some flirtation into your voice, “Ohhh, it’s something I can’t show you like this.”</p><p class="p1">The implication is that it’s a sort of lascivious picture, and his eyebrow quirks up with interest, “Oh really?” Without confirmation, he turns back to the guards and instructs them, “Well, sirs, you’re going to have to give us a minute of privacy.” He shoos them away with his hands, not letting a single one linger, and when they’re all out of sight and out of earshot, he turns back to you with a pleased grin, “Show me this picture you couldn’t show me in front of the others.”</p><p class="p1">Ah, he’s going to be so disappointed.</p><p class="p1">You raise your phone, the image Mark’d sent you illuminated again on the screen. He’s not greeted with a salacious photo of you, but a photo of a photo.</p><p class="p1">“Do you…” you ask carefully, “do you know any of these three?” His round eyes pore over the faces of the Choi boys, the framed family portrait of Siwon and his brothers that you’d found amongst the Zodiac totems. Mark had gone back to the mansion for god knows what reason, sending this photo as proof he was there and not Neozone. He looks at Matthew, and moves on, Wonho, moves on, but when he gets to the smallest of the bunch, his pupils shake, obvious in recognition.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, that’s,” he croaks, clearing his throat to answer. “That’s Woody.”</p><p class="p1">“Woody?” you ask, knowing that <em>Woozi</em> was permanently stored in your mind, even without the accompanying caption in Mark’s cropped photo.</p><p class="p1">“Woody, wooly, woozy, I think that was his name.”</p><p class="p1">Bang, bang. Dead on target.</p><p class="p1">“He used to do supply delivery for the firm, lots of my old coworkers were buddies with him,” he confirms, before looking to you and asking. “How do you have this?”</p><p class="p1">You’re caught up in the fact that Kyungsoo somehow actually knows one of these men, one of Siwon’s brothers who you’re almost sure had orchestrated your kidnapping. You’re about to ask him to spill everything he knows, when you remember who you’re talking to, where you are, what you were just doing, and you can’t believe you freely discussed this with him. You close off and wave the subject away, “It’s nothing. Just an old picture I found.”</p><p class="p1">You discreetly text Mark all the same.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[12:14 pm] <strong>you:</strong> ksoo knows the lil one. worked @ his office</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Then why were you acting all weird just now,” Kyungsoo calls you out.</p><p class="p1">You can’t say anything has been fixed between you two, but it finally hurts a little to turn it back on him and lie, “Come on, Soo. You know exactly why. It’s a blossom ceremony, and it just. It doesn’t feel good.”</p><p class="p1">He sees right through your lie and shoots you down right away, “That’s not it. Weird wasn’t even the right word. You looked <em>terrified</em>.” He doesn’t come across angry, just worried, as worried as he used to be during the heyday of your relationship. “And after what happened with your hand…. I just.. I’m not sure…”</p><p class="p1">It truly seems like Kyungsoo might break apart fully in this moment. You can feel it frothing in him, the tremble of his pink lips, the scrunch of his nose, how something he wants to say is poised in the back of his throat. You’ve been aching for a moment like this, for the façade to give way and the old Kyungsoo to come shining through. Just a bit more, you think you can coax it out of him, all you need is that first crack.</p><p class="p1">“I’m here!”</p><p class="p1">A guard has the door open, and in comes Baekhyun, skipping along before he plops right on the couch and puts his feet up on the table. Both you and Kyungsoo shake yourselves out of your twin stupors, and you reach over to ruffle Baekhyun’s hair, “Puppy boy, here to help us?”</p><p class="p1">“Picking out flowers is infinitely better than sitting around doing nothing all day,” he gripes.</p><p class="p1">“And what do you do here, exactly? Considering you were days away from putting an album out and now… nothing?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m our nation’s greatest artist—,” he states with full confidence, earning him a groan from his best friend, <em>oh come on.</em> “If Premier Kim asks for my services for Dorado, of course that takes precedence.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t like that answer at all. This is the man who had been so proud to be from Elyxion, who’d been an integral part of Exordium even while being the nation’s favorite mega celebrity. To hear that Premier Kim had tempted him away from that life is unpleasant at best, and scary at worst. Especially considering how all of that had transpired in Zero Mile, you don’t want to believe he’d just waltzed away for a job that doesn’t seem any more cushy.</p><p class="p1">“You’re just like… a glorified national anthem singer?”</p><p class="p1">“Who could sing it better than me?” Baekhyun answers, but you’re dismayed to find no hint of sarcasm or joking.</p><p class="p1">“But Suho—,” you’re about to say it, but <em>Suho was being held in Siwon’s mansion, and you weren’t</em>, when Baekhyun barrels past you completely.</p><p class="p1">“Are we thinking lilies or forget-me-nots for the ceremony, then? I’m assuming you’ll want to use your flowers for the reception.”</p><p class="p1">You’re caught off guard by the fact that he’s actually excited to plan this, that the previous line of conversation dies out entirely. You don’t want to pick out flowers, you already have the arrangements in mind, one that you can’t explain to any florist here. You’d told the one person that matters, he knows. But you have your own facade you’re trying to keep in place, you can’t let it slip in a moment of weakness.</p><p class="p1">“Lilies,” Kyungsoo answers, just as you say, “Forget-me-nots.” You turn to him with full dominance and assert, “Absolutely no lilies!” They’re a beautiful flower, but you will forever associate them with Jeno’s funeral, will never be able to see them without thinking of how they’d lined his school portrait with them.</p><p class="p1">“Alright, you two need to cut it out,” Baekhyun ends the argument before it starts, looking back and forth between you and Kyungsoo with utter disbelief.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo flinches, then asks, “What do you mean?”</p><p class="p1">“You never used to argue, always were on the same page about everything,” Baekhyun reminds you of the summer, how’d it flown by in basic bliss as you allowed yourself to dip into what being in a perfect, or as perfect as it could’ve been, relationship was like. Your first fight had been the time you’d run into Luna’s parents, months and months after you’d agreed to be together. “You straight up haven’t had a pleasant conversation with each other since you’ve been back.”</p><p class="p1">“So?” you press, wanting to know why it bothers him so much.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun scoffs, before he launches into a passionate rant, “So? Liven it up people, don’t want to feel like I’m sitting in a morgue every time I’m around you! We're a team, aren't we?”</p><p class="p1">He’s meant to lighten the mood, but he’s actually doused you with a bucket of truth. You can’t be here, tearing out your hair, wallowing away as you miss every part of back home. You’d come here for answers, not to be depressed while doing so. Kyungsoo was once a hugely important part of your life - Baekhyun too - and despite the changes that have brought you two to this moment, it really would be nice to have him by your side. As your friend.</p><p class="p1">You meet his eyes, the sparkly black eyes that still enchant you, and his closed mouth trembles before he softly offers up, “I…. I realize that this is something that is hard for you. We’ve talked about it a lot, and I’m sorry for ignoring those conversations.” It’s a huge concession, probably the biggest one he could make. Like that old floor tile in your room, imperfect amongst the perfection, this is a crack in his mask that you’ll willingly take.</p><p class="p1">There’s no taking without giving, so you own up to some of your poor behavior, “I’m sorry for not voicing my discomfort properly.”</p><p class="p1">He takes the chance to one up you, to shoot you a homespun, childish grin and ask, “Want to skip official lunch and get burgers? If we get back before the stylists return from their break, nobody will ever know.” He tilts his head over to his best friend and slyly plots, “We’ll default all our decisions to Baek to give him something to do.”</p><p class="p1">This is the Kyungsoo you know. And if it’s the only Kyungsoo you’ll get, you have to take it.</p><p class="p1">“Deal.”</p><p class="p1">His pretty smile is enough to know you’d answered right.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>lol this chapter was very meh for me, it basically just exists to push the plot forward for next time... which is a big one... and also one of my favorites! stay tuned xo! thank you for reading</p><p>song of the week i listened to while editing: la noche de anoche by bad bunny ft. rosalia (off his new album!) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VlFxGiRGO_8&amp;ab_channel=BadBunny</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. tagetes patula</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This time, the trio of bald men standing by the corner of the bar have walked away with their beers in hand, giving you a clear view of someone standing in the halo of dim light there. You blink hard, convinced it’s some wild, anxiety-induced hallucination, but the person is still standing there.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>for some reason ao3 ate some comments on the last chapter - i got the emails but couldn't see any of them. so if you wrote me and i didn't reply, i'm sorry! hopefully it's fixed this time! enjoy......</p><p>i am also waffling on the chapter count based on how to divide up the plot. i think 38 works but it might go back to 37. i swear i'll make up my mind soon</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You’ve just finished getting dressed for another mind numbing dinner with Premier Kim and company, when you hear a soft knock on your door. You look up to find Kyungsoo standing there in the frame of your door, bouquet of flowers in his hand.</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” he greets you easily, sitting down on the chaise by the entryway as you finish pinning back your hair. He puts the bunch of cheery marigolds down on the table beside him and says, “These are for you.”</p><p class="p1">You had tentatively patched up the fractures in your relationship, spending most of the past few weeks interacting in companionable friendliness as you’d planned out the details of your blossom ceremony. But this has now looped back around into an actual touching moment, and you stop applying your lipstick long enough to turn and genuinely smile. “Thank you, Soo. These are lovely.”</p><p class="p1">“There is a party instead of dinner tonight,” he grumbles, running a frustrated hand through his hair.</p><p class="p1">You chuckle, understanding why he’d shown up with the beautiful blooms out nowhere, “Ah, trying to buy my compliance, huh?”</p><p class="p1">“The flowers were a bribe, yup,” Kyungsoo confirms. It’s actually kind of nice, knowing that you’re obliged to go, but he’d tried to sweeten the deal for you nonetheless. Even more when he suggests, “But if you’re not feeling up to it, I might have a few good excuses left in my arsenal.”</p><p class="p1">It’s another canyon crack in his closed-off façade. You’ll take it to heart but give him what he really needs, “It’s okay, I think I could compose myself for a party. Do I need to change?”</p><p class="p1">As he gives you a slow once over, Kyungsoo appears worn out - deep, dark shadows visible under his eyes, neck corded with visible tension. With all the fighting you’ve been doing, and all the pressure he’s been under, it’s no surprise that he continues to come off that way. Nor is it surprising that you still feel utmost sympathy for him.</p><p class="p1">“No,” he denies, soft and pliable. “You look pretty.”</p><p class="p1"><em>The prettiest girl in the world</em>, <em>maybe ever. </em>It’s not Kyungsoo’s fault that that adjective doesn’t mean anything anymore unless it comes from a specific person. Yet, you’re compelled to move at his sweet compliment, to offer up some modicum of thanks at his attempt. You walk over from your vanity and take his hand with yours, allowing him to stand up and place your fingers in the crook of his elbow so you can walk along to the ballroom together.</p><p class="p1">You even decide to keep him from languishing in pained silence by continuing the conversation as you walk, “What is this party you had to bribe me to show up to?”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, it’s just one of those regular schmoozy politician parties. Drinks and talking, not much else,” Kyungsoo explains, pulling out groans from both of you. “Michael probably never showed up to these because he had better things to d—,” he stops himself, policing any type of phrase that could be considered positive about the older man, and quickly moves on, “anyways, it’s just whatever Regents are in town, some ministers and officials, plus their families.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, and I’m your family now,” you ask, half sarcastically, half wanting to see if he’ll confirm his vision of you.</p><p class="p1">He does, “You’re my family now.”</p><p class="p1">That’s a tough one. Your family is your mom and your dad, Michael and Mark and Jeno, your very best friends, your husband, every person who’d ever held one ounce of love in their heart for you. By that default definition, Kyungsoo should be a part of your family. But it does not feel like he should be attached to something so sacred while being a member of another’s family.</p><p class="p1">As the guards open the door for you, you’re thinking of a way you can respond neutrally, when Kyungsoo digs deep into the flirtation and adds on, “And who wouldn’t want to rub their gorgeous soon-to-be wife in the face of every sad sack that has the misfortune of not being with you.”</p><p class="p1">You have to muffle your laughter to not draw the attention of the sophisticated guests inside, the classy violin music and dimmed lighting no setting for uproarious cackling. You take a quick sweep of the room and spot the requisite attendees, Premier Kim in the corner with Taeyeon, Mr. Jung talking to some Minister over glasses of wine. Siwon is loitering on the side with the reporters that have managed to weasel their way in, and there’s a huge bunch of pompous men you don’t know crowded in front of the open bar. You’re fairly certain that beyond the obligatory invitation, Kyungsoo had brought you here to not be alone amongst these people.</p><p class="p1">“I already agreed to come, you don’t have to lay it on that thick,” you tease, wanting to have a good, lighthearted night with him.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo laughs, like genuinely laughs with a full smile on his face, and teases back, “As much as you pretend to hate it, you’ve always secretly loved over the top corniness.”</p><p class="p1">“Nah, you’re definitely not that corn—,” your kidding statement tapers off into stunned silence when your head does a second sweep of the room.</p><p class="p1">This time, the trio of bald men standing by the corner of the bar have walked away with their beers in hand, giving you a clear view of someone standing in the halo of dim light there. You blink hard, convinced it’s some wild, anxiety-induced hallucination, but the person is still standing there.</p><p class="p1">“What was that?” Kyungsoo asks idly, as he does the same survey of the room.</p><p class="p1">“Nothing,” you breathe out. “Champagne?”</p><p class="p1">“A bourbon. Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo hasn’t even really finished the syllable of <em>you</em> before you’re removing your hand from within his arm, and gliding with poise through the crowd, trying to tamp down your urge to move with haste. A person or two or three might’ve tried to stop you, to offer up an introduction or some pleasant platitudes, but you ignore them all, beckoned by a neutrally pleased quirk of a set of lips in your direction. You round the corner, an elbow ghosts across an elbow, a passed note of <em>hello, I’m immeasurably happy to see you here</em>, and you slip into an open space between two men you don’t recognize.</p><p class="p1">The bartender drops what she’s doing to serve you immediately, “Ma’am, what would you like?”</p><p class="p1">“A glass of champagne,” you request for yourself and for Kyungsoo, “and a bourbon, no ice.”</p><p class="p1">She nods and begins to pull out a number of glasses to multitask, turning to a man who’s come up to the bar a few people down and asking, “Sir, what are you having?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun bends over the wood of the counter to lay on the charm and gentlemanly classiness, “Whiskey, three fingers, extra ice. And a glass of champagne, too.” After ordering, he turns to the man standing beside him and inclines his head in greeting, “Finance Minister, hello.”</p><p class="p1">But he’s not saying hello to just Finance Minister Noh, seated on the barstool between you. Jaehyun hasn’t removed his gaze off you once since the moment your eyes had met his across the room, a move that should’ve earned him a scolding, considering how obvious he’s being. But you’re having a hard time not staring at him in return, your own husband here in Pandora. And you’re not the only one — every man, every woman, every <em>person</em> in this room, old or young, taken or single, has turned to stare at Jaehyun at least once since you’ve walked in.</p><p class="p1">How has he managed to level up his untouchable presence in the weeks you’ve been away? Seriously, if you hadn’t known who he was you would’ve been intimidated by his ethereal beauty right now. There’s something else about him when he’s all dressed up like this, honey hair slicked back into a luxurious coif, effortlessly and lazily elegant in a black blazer and maroon silk button down with no tie. But you suppose what draws people in is not the clothes he wears, but his expression - mischievous and coy with eyes full of sparkly mirth as he peers at you over the older man’s head, his way of saying hello without really saying so.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, Jefferson’s son, right?” Minister Noh huffs. “How was your trip from Neozone?”</p><p class="p1">You keep your eyes focused on the bottles of vodka tucked behind the bar, knowing Jaehyun’s explanation is just for you, “Quite uneventful, though I am excited to be here — this is my father’s first big event since becoming Vice Premier. Sadly, my mother wasn’t able to make the trip, so I came by myself.”</p><p class="p1">“Your father has big things planned! It shall be quite intriguing to see where your political career goes from here, boy.”</p><p class="p1">“I plan to have a storied career pushing papers for the Neozone Policy Office, sir, not much more than that.” Jaehyun might honestly be fired from the policy office with all the time he’s skipped out on work as of late, and the annoyed-yet-polite bark of laughter that escapes him is a reminder that he loathes politics as much as anyone.</p><p class="p1">Minister Noh tsks, like Jaehyun’s his own child, and prods him, “Oh, come on, where’s your father’s ambition! By your age Jefferson and Kyungho had their grip on the political world. You should be thriving! Making tons of money! Married with kids!” You pick up on the fact that he’s slurring, and glance down to see a scatter of empty cups in front of the official. He sways a little on his seat before he chuckles and corrects himself, “Wait, are you married? I shouldn’t be so presumptuous, I’ve had some wine tonight.”</p><p class="p1">You really wish you’d worn your hair down, instead of pinned back in a bun. Because there’s no curtain of protection for your blush that stirs when Jaehyun not at all subtly lifts his gaze in your direction and confirms, “I have a girl, yes.”</p><p class="p1">You steel yourself to not look, because looking at him will give it all away completely. One look and everyone in this room will know you’re desperately in love with Jaehyun Jung. So, you’re left defenseless as Minister Noh continues on in a very uncouth manner,“Pretty? Has to be a pretty girl, otherwise she’s not worth much.”</p><p class="p1">You wouldn’t have to peek from your periphery to know that Jaehyun’s nose wrinkles with his disgust. His gritted voice is another indicator that he’s less than pleased, “You could call her that, I suppose.”</p><p class="p1">“You should see the girl that Premier Kim’s son brought home. Whew.”</p><p class="p1">You turn out of instinct at that, to stop Jaehyun from reacting in what is sure to be an over-the-top, destructive manner. But he’s not sparking with anger at the Minister’s words - his face is dripping with longing as he openly stares at you, you, the girl that he brought home first. When the bartender passes off the glass of whiskey, you catch that the liquid courage matches his yearning eyes, but more so, the scrap of golden thread that is still tied around his left ring finger.</p><p class="p1">“Here you go, ma’am,” the bartender gives you your drinks next, and you no longer have an excuse to linger by the bar for much longer. You don’t want to go, you never want to go away from him if you don’t have to. But you’re not really <em>you</em> right now. You’re trapped in this role you never wanted to play, and there are stage directions you must follow. Pick up the glasses, don’t meet his eyes again, return to the fiancé everyone thinks you’ve chosen.</p><p class="p1">But there’s leeway in those orders. There’s still room for you to take a sweet, sweet dip of your eyes to his finger and back to his face, a pining note of <em>I wish I was wearing mine. </em>A sip of your champagne, a coquettish lift of your shoulder, a enticing note of <em>you’re too much sometimes</em>. A brush of your arm against the breadth of his back, a tender note of <em>you still mean everything to me</em>. Then, you walk back through the party to re-join Kyungsoo, who has thankfully been chatting with Baekhyun and not paying otherwise attention.</p><p class="p1">You hand off the bourbon to him, trying your best not to look back at the bar, and explain your absence, “Sorry this took me a bit.”</p><p class="p1">“Caught up in conversation? That happens way more often than is okay at this shit,” Baekhyun mutters, taking a very long swig from his beer as you chug the rest of your champagne glass.</p><p class="p1">“Listening in on one,” you answer, distracted by the trays of food they’re setting up for consumption, knowing you’ll have to fill up in order to balance out the alcohol you plan on consuming. “I’m gonna grab a plate of food, be right back.”</p><p class="p1">It’s true you’re distracted by the food, you always are. But you’re more intrigued with the in-depth conversation Taeyeon and a man you recognize to be Regent Yoo of Chain Way, seem to be having. She, of course, is wearing her usual placid expression, giving away nothing, but the level this man is sweating at is not the normal amount of perspiration for a human being.</p><p class="p1">“Such a tragedy to hear about what happened to Michael Lee, isn’t it?” he laments first, choice of topic giving away why he’s been sweating himself to death here at this party.</p><p class="p1">Regent Yoo has been all over the news broadcasts of late, not holding anything back in lambasting Michael for the role he’d played in both the bombing and Premier Park’s death. It’s making him sweat, to try and appear neutral in this situation. You don't know if it's blind loyalty or pure jealousy that these men are operating with, or if it's just your heart's implicit bias not being able to understand how anyone could view Michael as the villain in all this.</p><p class="p1">Again, true to form, Taeyeon gives nothing away with her answer, being very cryptic when she says, “Mr. Lee made his own decisions, but it is on us to create this situation into a new beginning for our nation.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, you will have Chain Way’s support in whatever you need.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you. Regent He from White Limit has expressed similar sentiment.”</p><p class="p1">It is wholly unsurprising to you that the Regents from the other prominent cities in Neozone have pledged their loyalty to Premier Kim and Pandora. Taeyeon is purposefully gathering said loyalty to have ready in her back pocket, but as it seems to be lately, you don’t know what that means.</p><p class="p1">“Neozone will stand strong in this time of crisis,” Regent Yoo reassures her, in an ultimate show of patriotism.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, earth to y/n.”</p><p class="p1">You blink to see that instead of waiting, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo have come to join you over by where the seafood rolls have been laid out. By the time you look back, Taeyeon and Regent Yoo have walked their separate ways. “Sorry, what?”</p><p class="p1">“Did you hear any good gossip in that conversation?” Baekhyun asks, eyeing the plate you gathered as your cover for eavesdropping. “Also, can I have that shrimp roll?”</p><p class="p1">You oblige and start to unload the food into his eager hands as you gripe, “Yeah, the Finance Minister had a lot of interesting things to say.”</p><p class="p1">“Such as?”</p><p class="p1">“Only pretty girls are worth something,” you recite, raising a disbelieving eyebrow as if to say, <em>what the fuck was he on about to say something like that? </em>Seriously, the fact that men in Pandora, probably across Dorado, still hold those ideals is messed up beyond belief.</p><p class="p1">The two men opposite you share the same appalled look before Baekhyun curses, “What a drunk crock of shit.”</p><p class="p1">“You can say that again,” you mutter, before turning back to the food display. “Hold on, let me refill on the rolls.”</p><p class="p1">“What a drunk crock of sh—,”</p><p class="p1">“Shut up,” Kyungsoo hisses before Baekhyun can make the rude comment once more. An official must’ve made his way over to this corner to talk with him, with the way he composes himself into propriety, “Ah, sir. Thank you for coming.”</p><p class="p1">“Mr. Do, the pleasure is all mine. Will your lovely fiancee be joining us tonight?”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n?”</p><p class="p1">When you feel a hand on your arm, you turn back, crab roll stuffed ungainly into your mouth, and speak through a mouthful of food, “I’m sorry, you need me?” When you see the Finance Minister there, almost empty wine glass in hand and still swaying on his feet, you quickly swallow and compose yourself, “Ah, good evening sir.”</p><p class="p1">It happens in a comical series of events that you don’t have the anticipation to stop. Minister Noh gestures to someone behind him, and calls, “Come here, boy, just for a second.” From the familiar language, you’re anticipating his school aged son to come trailing behind him. But instead, you’re met with the suave image of Jaehyun strolling along, whiskey in hand, drawing the gazes of everyone surrounding you as he basks in his self-satisfied, divine aura. You know you should be mitigating Kyungsoo’s surely displeased reaction, but how could you do anything else but take the opportunity you’ve been given to stare at your husband once again.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, this is Jaehyun Jung, Vice Premier Jung’s son,” Minister Noh introduces, naive to the relationship held between you two. He not at all surreptitiously nudges Jaehyun in the side and loudly whispers, “That’s who I was talking about.”</p><p class="p1"><em>You should see the girl Premier Kim’s son brought home. </em>See? Comically awkward.</p><p class="p1">“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jung,” you feign ignorance, before turning a concerned, yet encouraging expression to the official. “Finance Minister, your glass is looking a bit low. Maybe you should go get it topped off?”</p><p class="p1">His mouth goes round in an o, as if he was bewildered to realize he’d downed the whole glass. He wanders off on his own with no preamble, to go refill on said spirit, but Jaehyun does not follow. He stands in front of you, completing the tense square, and silently dares one of the group to say something. Only, there’s nothing really tense about the way he’s presenting right now, he’s carrying himself with such practiced ease that it seems as if he could stand there in silence forever.</p><p class="p1">Of course it can’t be you, and Baekhyun doesn’t know him, not really. That means Kyungsoo is the one to cave first, to narrow his eyes and sneer, “Funny to see you here, Jung.”</p><p class="p1">You take an automatic step closer to Baekhyun, so you’re out of range for Kyungsoo to grab you. Jaehyun smirks at the less than pleasant greeting, then casually drawls, “Funny that you find it’s funny, considering your father made my father the Vice Premier. And, you know, I’ve been to these things before.” He’s at the top of his game, confident and cocky, not even letting Kyungsoo respond before he’s turning to Baekhyun with full charm and introducing himself, “Hey man, Jaehyun Jung. I’m a huge, huge fan of yours.”</p><p class="p1">A confused look crosses Baekhyun’s handsome face, surely trying to pick apart why his best friend hates this friendly stranger. He shakes Jaehyun’s hand, then his expression brightens in recognition, “I remember you. You came to my Neozone fansign.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, huge might be an understatement,” Jaehyun laughs, knowing he would technically be considered a mega fan, if his vinyl collection was any indication.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun is delighted, chuckling away now as the memories return, unaware he’s about to unleash a bomb, “You were wearing a shirt that looked just like mine, you got so freaked out haha.” The remaining three of you take a very pregnant pause at that statement. It was a lighthearted reminiscence, something that was supposed to be a funny recollection. But you didn’t, and still don’t, sew things for just anyone. What makes it worse is that Baekhyun remembers something else and says to you, “Wait, he’s the fake marriage neighbor, isn’t he?”</p><p class="p1">There’s nothing fake about any of it.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, Jaehyun.”</p><p class="p1">The group of you whip around to see Vice Premier Jung there. He is wearing such a placidly neutral expression that you have no idea if he’s trying to quell a fuming rage or has truly accepted that you are <em>with</em> Kyungsoo now. You would think that planning a false blossom ceremony for the past month would’ve given you at least one point in your favor.</p><p class="p1">“Hello, Dad,” Jaehyun greets.</p><p class="p1">“Glad to see you were able to make it on time. How’s Mom?”</p><p class="p1">“She had a really bad headache, wanted to stay home today,” Jaehyun delivers what you assume is a smooth lie. You don’t know her that well yet, but you can’t imagine that Jaekyung would’ve wanted to come here after the conversation you’d had.</p><p class="p1">“Well, hopefully she’ll be able to join us later this week.” What? You’d assumed this was a one off, Jaehyun daring to come see you under the disguising protection that this event gave him. The idea he might be staying longer is exciting… and terrifying.</p><p class="p1">“Later this week?” Jaehyun voices the question on behalf of all four of you.</p><p class="p1">“Come,” Mr. Jung beckons his son forward, “let’s go somewhere else and talk privately.” Jaehyun allows his father to usher him away from where you’d been chatting, and is blasé in his false filial piety that he doesn’t even hazard a glance back to you.</p><p class="p1">“Asshole,” Kyungsoo coughs into his drink, obvious in not trying to hide what he’d said. It simultaneously feels like a lifetime and a heartbeat since you’d ever regarded Jaehyun as that.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun turns back from where he’d watched the two men disappear into the hallway and he asks, “Soo, what?”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, we don’t like him,” Kyungsoo offers up a very, very abridged version of the story, then nudges you in the side to concur, “Right, y/n?”</p><p class="p1"><em>Jaehyun is the sweetest boy I know. </em>“Not a huge fan, myself,” you mutter, in a way that you hope will throw both of them off your track. That satisfies Kyungsoo, you know it for sure by the slight puff of his chest. But you can’t quite decode Baekhyun’s usually readable face.You make moves to excuse yourself by saying, “I’m going to go get another drink,” and then leaving before they answer. You need to get away from this stuffy corner, from the prying eyes and the expectations, and get to a place on your intoxication level that will allow you to function with much less anxiety.</p><p class="p1">There’s another open space around where you had slipped in before. You sidle your way up to the counter and flag down the same bartender, who comes to you right away and remembers your order, “Another bourbon, ma’am?”</p><p class="p1">“Vodka soda this time, please,” you switch it up, a drink for yourself stronger than champagne. The vodka will work wonders to calm your raging nerves, though you will have to police yourself to ensure you don’t get too drunk in front of these pompous men.</p><p class="p1">“It’ll be a bit, kind of busy right now.”</p><p class="p1">You wave your hand at her, <em>no worries</em>. The longer she takes, the longer break you get from the emotional hoopla you were thrust into.</p><p class="p1">“Hmmm. Typical.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is somehow beside you, glass in hand as he pretends to read through the specialty drink menu. To anyone else, it would’ve looked like two strangers at a bar at the same time, but his comment on your drink selection - knowing vodka is the only hard liquor you ever take - tells you he’s not playing pretend right now. Which is a choice teetering on danger.</p><p class="p1">“Hello again,” you say, not quite slipping into familiarity yet, taking a once over at the people around the counter to see if you might get caught. You turn back to address him as Jeffrey Jung, Jefferson Jung’s son, “Tell me what it was you were doing here?”</p><p class="p1">“Well, my father is the Vice Premier now…” Jaehyun starts, then does the same, peering over his shoulder at the other patrons of the party. Spotting no one looking in your direction, he finally faces you full on, and lets the tiny, pleased grin slip onto his face as he murmurs, “Had to see my girl.”</p><p class="p1">You let out the tiniest of besotted giggles, unable to conceal your mushy grin. Even when you turn back to the bar, you can feel the flush in your cheek as you press it to the bare curve of your shoulder. You should’ve worn a turtleneck tonight, not this slinky black number that gives away your embarrassed affection for this stupid man.</p><p class="p1">“We have to behave,” you warn him.</p><p class="p1">“We?” Jaehyun asks, cheeky as he takes a sip from his glass. “I’m just here with my whiskey. While you on the other hand, look like an idiot right now.”</p><p class="p1">You wipe the smile from your face in an instant, playing the dumbest of dumb, “I do not even know what you mean.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t play coy, Mrs. Jung.”</p><p class="p1">“Jae, shh,” you whisper in a panic, darting your head back and forth to check that no one had heard that brazen use of your married name.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun and Kyungsoo have disappeared and the officials around you are more preoccupied in their drinks than this random conversation. But still, you can’t help the worry. Jaehyun looks like he doesn’t give a single fuck. In fact, you know he’s itching to shout the title across the room right now, to announce to everyone that you’re actually married and no matter what, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.</p><p class="p1">He chooses a far, far worse path.</p><p class="p1">He leans forward on his sturdy arms and brings his tantalizing mouth into the proximity of your ear just so he can murmur, “No one’s listening. I can say you’re just as pretty as how I left you. I can say that I thought about you the entire time you were gone.” You’re blushing at how over the top he’s being, the true pinnacle of manly corniness, then he turns it a completely different way, “I can say that that dress looks… incredible on you.” He shifts so the fabric of his blazer brushes right across the open cutout in the side of your dress, and his pinky, cold with the stain of ice, tangents across the fiery skin of yours. His mouth barely moves as he finishes off his lurid last sentence, “I can say whatever I want all… night… long… and no one would hear me.”</p><p class="p1">Goddamn. You didn’t know Jaehyun had this side to him. It’s wildly unfair that you’re the only one getting riled up right now, it’s your duty to give it to him as good as you’ve got. </p><p class="p1">You start off sweet, the shy girl you usually are around him, “You’ve gotten even more handsome since I’ve gone. And I’ve tried not to think about you, because it hurts to miss you.” You take that breathy pause to  transfigure yourself into the goddess you are. Turning to lean your side into the bar and preening your neck in a manner that shows off your exposed décolletage, you lower your voice into the depths of your most captivating whisper, “And that suit…. looks incredible on you. So I’ll be thinking about <em>that</em>, all night long.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun gulps nervously, outplayed with that one.</p><p class="p1">But you don’t want this night to only be you and Jaehyun apart once more, lonely heads upon maudlin pillows in despondent beds, comforted only by the past and the minute possibilities of the future. You wish you had the courage to make a scene. It doesn’t have to be particularly lewd, you don’t even want to kiss him, or press your body into his right now. It’s nothing more than the constant desire to have your hands braided together, to allow his beautiful smile to linger in your direction for longer than a second, to be wearing a gold ring instead of a silver one. It would be a disaster do any of those things, but it would be a disaster you cherished.</p><p class="p1">The bartender shows up at the ideal moment to prevent aforementioned disaster from happening, your glass in hand. “Vodka soda, ma’am.” It’s three unrelated words, but it’s a sobering dose of reality that you need to remember. Not a single person here save for you and Jaehyun know the truth. And you really can’t afford to do anything but lie right now.</p><p class="p1">You take the glass with a nod of thanks, and you murmur a quiet, “Lovely to speak with you, Mr. Jung,” not even meeting his eyes as you take your exit from the bar.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun and Kyungsoo are still nowhere to be found, so you don’t think it will be totally taboo for you to dip out of the party in their absence. You make eye contact with the nearest guard, and he is by your side in a second to escort you back to you living quarters. You’re back in the role now, the Premier’s son’s wife and no one else, but fuck it, before this scene ends, you’ll look back once.</p><p class="p1">You look back to realize that Jaehyun has also abandoned all pretenses of pretending and has also looked back. It’s funny and sad and serendipitous all at once. You’ll settle for your eyes on his, his coy smile, and the reminder he’ll be thinking of you tonight. That’s enough for now. After all, you have at least a week of this to come.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">It’s no secret, the reason why you’re above and beyond in your cheeriness the next morning.</p><p class="p1">It starts when the guard outside your door does a double take when you come out at eight thirty sharp, no doubt prepped that you wouldn’t show your face until eleven at the earliest. Next, the housekeeper’s broom drops right out of her hand when you smile at her and wave as you’re retrieving your glass of water from the fridge, unprepared for your turn in friendliness. Yes, it’s true, the cat’s out of the bag, while he’s not in your direct presence, it makes your heart sing just knowing that Jaehyun is around somewhere.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun is the latest in line to get caught off guard by your sprightly attitude. He nearly trips over his feet when you happen to cross paths in the main foyer and you brightly chirp at him in greeting, “Dorado’s boy! Hi!”</p><p class="p1">He squints, momentarily blinded by the fact that you’re in a pastel yellow dress instead of the monochromatic nonsense you usually wear, but smiles anyways, “Y/n!”</p><p class="p1">“What are you up to this morning?”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, Premier Kim asked me to entertain a number of guests for breakfast. Duty calls." He seems less than pleased to answer your question, if his eye roll gives anything away. You don’t blame him. If you weren’t running on an outsider’s induced adrenaline, you would’ve loathed to be social this early in the morning.</p><p class="p1">You’re feeling generous, so you offer, “Kyungsoo is in a meeting, you need a plus one?”</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun’s eyes flutter closed in relief as he snatches your hand and seals it away into his elbow before you can take it back, “Please. I’ll literally pay you.”</p><p class="p1">Giggling, the two of you walk over to the formal dining room arm in arm, lost in discussion at how fucked up many of the prominent Ministers were the night before. You would’ve had the opportunity for some serious blackmail material had you not been under direct supervision the whole time. He seems more relaxed now that it’s just the two of you, willing to slip back into the teasing Baekhyun self that you know, who’d pull your ponytail and slander the government and not have a care about any of it.</p><p class="p1">“How much are you going to pay m—,” you start to rib as you turn into the room, but the the sentiment evaporates into something else. “Oh, shit.”</p><p class="p1">Thankfully, you’ve managed to police your tone so that not even Baekhyun hears your curse, “What was that?”</p><p class="p1">“Nothing,” you hum, shooing him away from you to move to the head of the room. “Go be the national anthem singer that you are.”</p><p class="p1">As he straightens out his paisley suit and puts on his celebrity smile, you’re left standing alone at the rear end of the table they’ve set up. The dining table traverses the length of the space, filled with seat after seat taken by various officials and their families who came into the capital for the event last night. You’d only done a scan of the room, but it hadn’t taken much to queue up your first instinct for profanity. The only seat available for you - the extra guest who wasn’t even supposed to be here - is the empty one you’re standing next to. Which is directly across from a seat that’s already filled.</p><p class="p1">The only empty seat in this entire room is directly across from the one that Jaehyun’s sitting in. Jaehyun, who has somehow improved upon his divinity from last night by showing up with his curls brushed out into maximum allure, flashy gold jewelry taking him a step above everyone’s drab brunch outfits, wearing this delightful little lilac jacket that seems to mesh with your dress in a palette of Easter dreaminess. Sitting directly to his left is Finance Minister Noh, already with three empty mimosa glasses scattered in front of him. Knowing how last night went, this should be very, very interesting.</p><p class="p1">You smile at the guests in your proximity with the usual polite smile, and ask demurely, “Mind if I join you? All the other seats are taken.”</p><p class="p1">Minister Noh nearly soils his dress shirt with Hollandaise sauce in his haste to gesture you into sitting. You catch the way Jaehyun covers his laugh with his napkin, cheeky dimple pop unable to be disguised quickly enough. Your backside isn’t even fully on the chair before the older man is reaching over the table to grab your hand, bend low over it like he’s an aristocrat of old, and press a kiss to it.</p><p class="p1">“Welcome. Gentlemen, this is y/l/n, Mr. Do’s fiancée,” he introduces you to the surrounding patrons with ill-hidden glee, before he nudges the man beside him and not-so subtly says, “of course, Jaehyun, you have already met Ms. Y/l/n.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun smirks, a look of <em>oh, you have no idea</em>, as you incline your head, “Lovely to meet you all.”</p><p class="p1">A waiter brings you a crystal mimosa glass, and you allow the fizzy buzz of the alcohol to buoy you into the conversation smoothly, to tuck your hair behind your ear with a flirty smile, have everyone at the table believing you’re just some silly little wife here to entertain. Of course, you are still a silly little wife, but not to the person they think. It’s serendipitous positioning, where you’re sitting, because Jaehyun can stare at you all he likes and it will only come across as him participating in the conversation.</p><p class="p1">The woman besides - you vaguely recognize her as part of the Ministry of Justice - clears her throat, and she brings about another topic, “So, Jaehyun, Jefferson tells me that you are planning on getting married soon?”</p><p class="p1">Poor lady, she has no idea what sort of can of worms she’s opening.</p><p class="p1">“You might’ve misheard him, ma’am, I have already gotten married,” Jaehyun answers, easy breezy, and you nearly spit out the mouthful of mimosa you’ve just taken. What is he playing at here? He’s certainly got the interest of everyone who’s heard his comment, especially since he’d shown up to this breakfast clearly unattached.</p><p class="p1">“Oh really?” the same lady asks, gleam in her eye as she pries for gossip, “to someone that I might know? I used to travel back and forth to Neozone all the time.”</p><p class="p1">If they weren’t all so drunk already, the theme of the weekend, the officials around you wouldn’t have missed the way Jaehyun locks eyes with you, confidently pushes a curl out of his eyes, and brags, “Just a girl from home. Maybe the prettiest girl in Dorado.”</p><p class="p1">What a fucking cheese ball.</p><p class="p1">You roll your eyes in such disbelief right as Minister Noh scoffs at Jaehyun’s statement. He points right at you and exclaims, “Hard to say that when she’s sitting right here, engaged to someone else!”</p><p class="p1">Fucking yikes, you don’t want Minister Noh to keep bringing it up like this. If he just kept his fat mouth shut, then you’d be able to sit here and indulge in the fantasy of sharing breakfast with your husband all alone, in a place where these sweet compliments didn’t have to be hidden under the veil of a girl that doesn’t exist.</p><p class="p1">“Admirable that you have such loyalty to your wife, Jaehyun. Men around here could use a little more of that." The woman beside you takes the opportunity to chastise the crudeness from her fellow minister, and offer up the first, slightest show of support against the misogyny that seems to run rampant in this city. She turns the conversation away from the delicate topic and asks, “Anyways, y/n, what do you do?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m a seamstress. But I only make clothes for the family I’m employed by.”</p><p class="p1">“How is that going to work once you’re married, though?”</p><p class="p1">You’re not entirely sure, yourself. You’re fairly confident that your career as the Lees’ seamstress died the moment Michael was arrested. But is it wrong of you to continue to cling to the hope that Mark and Kyungsoo’s friendship could be repaired once again? They’re <em>cousins</em>. He should be okay with you sewing for Mark, he has to be.</p><p class="p1">“My future husband knows who I sew for. It shouldn’t bother him,” you state, hoping that saying it out loud will cement it into reality.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun interrupts, “So if I asked you to sew something for me, you’d say no? Even though our fathers work together?” His cheeky, inquiring grin tells you he is having way too much fun with this, considering he already knows the answer with maybe a hundred shirts in his closet to prove it.</p><p class="p1">“I’d say no.”</p><p class="p1">“Damn, really? My wife tried to teach me how to sew socks and I failed, looks like I’ll just have to find someone else to do it for me.”</p><p class="p1">“I heard Jennie Kim is quite the tailor,” you note wryly, and you spot the slightest appalled grimace from him at his failed attempt in making you jealous. You’ll have to tell him the dress story some other time.</p><p class="p1">The other patrons at the table start to drift away, thinking that you’re about to delve off into a conversation of your own. You wait until those around you are firmly ensconced in their own discussions before turning to shake your head at Jaehyun. He’s being way too obvious, recalling all these stories that obviously paint you as the wife in all of this. You lower your tone to barely above mute and prod, “What are you being so loud for?”</p><p class="p1">His eyes drop down to his phone on the table, and he starts scrolling away, seeming to ignore your question. But after a solid thirty seconds of scrolling, you faintly hear it, “I need to see you after this.”</p><p class="p1">Of course you want to see him, you’ve spent this entire month missing him desperately, but this isn’t Neozone, where you can run back and forth between the plaza. His gaze flicks upwards, to see if you caught it, and your eyes widen in return, a subtle signal of <em>no</em>. But just to be sure, you also whisper, “Jae, we can’t.”</p><p class="p1">“No, I <em>need</em> to see you after this.” The particular emphasis he places on the word clues you into the fact that the request is not one to go gallivanting around together. Something’s up, and it’s urgent.</p><p class="p1"><em>Okay</em>, you mouth, and your suspicions are confirmed when a visible amount of worry careens out of his eye.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun hefts his phone in his hand, uses the other to take his napkin off his lap, and he flashes a pleasant smile to your compatriots. He halts their separate talks with his departing greeting, “Excuse me, this is actually a reminder I need to go call my wife. It was great to get to know you all.”</p><p class="p1">He leaves you there by yourself, forced to listen in on them titter about how quote devoted the young Mr. Jung seems to be to this mystery woman. Forced to try and ignore how preoccupied your mind becomes with convincing yourself that Jaehyun wants to just steal you away for a dalliance yet knowing for sure that something is seriously wrong.</p><p class="p1">When they bring out the Dutch pancakes for a sweet conclusion to the meal, you get up and bow your head to the senior ministers again, “I’ll be taking my leave, my fiancé should be getting out of his meeting very soon.”</p><p class="p1">You take a leisurely stroll out of the dining room, but as soon as you catch a glimpse of the guards huddled together over their meal in the hallway, no one looking your way, you bolt. Running on the tips of your toes so your heels don’t clang against the tiles, you flutter along through foyer, heading towards the west entrance that opens into the guest house’s courtyard. You’ll need to make this lightning quick if you want to get back before people start to question if you’d actually gone off to find Kyungsoo.</p><p class="p1">You’re prepared to round the corner that leads into the final corridor, when you hear the dregs of a fiery back and forth billowing into the air. Catching yourself on the concrete, you keep your back pressed into the wall as you slow to a halt, center your breath, and then begin to tiptoe forward to eavesdrop into what you’ve run into. You’re suddenly overwrought with worry, that being discreet like this won’t even be enough. Because you’ve just walked right into a heated discussion between Taeyeon and Siwon.</p><p class="p1">This is the first direct proof you have that they possess a relationship other than professional, with the way he’s got her backed into the doorframe, hand loose on her waist despite the tension that is beaming between them. The first time you’d crossed paths with Siwon - when he’d been a nobody to you, just another reporter there to interview Michael after the truce with Elyxion was signed - you’d remembered he liked wearing a specific gold pin. Taeyeon always wore the same delicate gold necklace. Seeing them together like this, with the knowledge of their home you retain, reveals that their jewelry is matching in charms depicting the spoked wheel of the Zodiac.</p><p class="p1">You can’t contemplate that right now, you have to hone into Taeyeon’s displeased hiss, “Oh, so you think it’s a total coincidence that someone set off the alarm in Michael’s complex and that our housekeeper is <em>missing?</em>”</p><p class="p1">Oh my god, Mark didn’t.</p><p class="p1">“It was literally because one of the new hires showed up early, Leechaiyapornkul didn’t say anything else,” Siwon soothes her, and you’re intrigued that he’s accepted Ten’s explanation so easily.</p><p class="p1">“But for it to happen within the same week, think, honey!”</p><p class="p1">“You need to calm down, everything is still in place. Besides, Sunny’s most recent report said everyone’s still there, so why worry? Her tablet is probably just broken and that’s why she’s not responding to us. I know you’re still spooked by that burglary attempt, but that group of looters didn’t take anything.”</p><p class="p1">You’re stunned to find that you’re at a sudden advantage here. It’s been weeks and weeks since you sprung Mrs. Lee out of captivity, but this whole time they’ve been under the impression that had been a random robbery attempt, and not anything planned. Sunny must’ve put up a hell of a performance to convince them otherwise.</p><p class="p1">"We both made a promise to each other, remember?" she hisses with displeasure and authority. "To advance our hometown's beliefs as much as our consecrated hearts would allow?  And you remember who gave us these jobs. We can't betray them by being careless. You need to go back to the house."</p><p class="p1">Siwon throws his hands up in exasperation and retorts, “I can’t leave now!”</p><p class="p1">“But we can’t hazard the chance they escaped, that anyone could spill while we’re about to have the greatest victory of our lives!”</p><p class="p1">That’s it. They have to be behind this all. You don’t know how you’ve never seen it before, but it makes eerily sick sense. The Night of Darkness, perpetrated by them so they could perform their rituals, done in a move to punish Elyxion citizens. Jeno’s kidnapping — carried out by Siwon’s brothers, you’re convinced of it now — to frame Regent Oh and cripple Elyxion’s government. You’re sure if you manage to do a bit more digging, their greasy hands will be all over Michael’s false imprisonment. This is all one huge power play for control of the country. Maybe that’s why Premier Kim had been so keen on the idea of bloodline inheritance, to keep this wicked couple from wreaking havoc on the nation.</p><p class="p1">“Tae, baby, we’ve got this,” Siwon soothes his wife, in an about-face towards the supportive husband role. “We will make our hometown proud.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s it, though.” She’s reminding him of a conversation they seem to have previously had before, “This is about our city, not just us. We need to ensure that Zero Mile’s creeds are the ones adopted by our new nation.”</p><p class="p1">There it is, even more proof that they may have manipulated Premier Kim in order to get what they wanted. To see the minority dregs of Zero Mile’s archaic, bloodthirsty Zodiac belief system -  a system that isn't even widespread in their own town beyond a handful of true believers - being propagated throughout the nation as accepted gospel.</p><p class="p1">“You have brought great fortune to this endeavor, honey, your visions have mapped out the plan perfectly for us. But you need to calm down,” he soothes her. “No one suspects anything, even Kyungsoo and y/n are getting along again.”</p><p class="p1">At the sound of your name, a skitter of goosebumps pricks onto your arms, evolving into needlepoints when Taeyeon growls, “With that girl finally coming around in her behavior, we need to hurry things along and get them married! It doesn’t matter if she’s with Jefferson’s kid or Kyungho’s, we need the image of an Elyxion woman submitting to a life with a Neozone man to present to the region. That will seal the deal.”</p><p class="p1">Seal the deal on what? Kyungsoo isn’t even a Neozone man, neither of the named men are. Jaehyun’s inheritance seems to be a long held secret, but surely the evil pair before you knows the story of how Kyungsoo came to be. You don’t know what they’re trying to prove, trotting you out to the nation like this.</p><p class="p1">Siwon reassures his wife as best he can, “We’ll get them married. Their dissolution proceedings are next week, their ceremony the week after. It’s all coming together.”</p><p class="p1">You bolt at that, unable to hazard having an emotional reaction in their proximity and being overheard, and go right out the closest concealed entrance. There are no soldiers standing watch over the guesthouse, security is not extended to visitors unless it’s personally brought. You freely walk into the place, making a mental note to reach out to Ten and see if he can get the security cameras scrubbed later. Jaehyun hadn’t said anything specific about where you should go once you were here. But you think of what you know about him, combine it with the knowledge that the sun always hits the left side of the guest house so generously, and you take the stairs on the side staircase two at a time to get to the east wing of the mansion.</p><p class="p1">The sunniest alcove in the place rests at the end of the second floor’s main hallway. Without precedence, you go right up and push open the door as slowly as you can, softly calling into the room, “Hello?”</p><p class="p1">At first, there’s no response, so you feel awkward that you might’ve walked into a random person’s residence. But there’s a crash of someone tripping over something, followed by a fumbling curse, “Shit.” Jaehyun skids to a halt right in front of you, a metric ton of relief crashing into his features when he sees you there in the entryway, “Hi. I thought something happened.”</p><p class="p1">You’re compelled with the desperate urge to hug him, cross the line that’s been held up between you. However, you don’t know what lies inside this room, whether you have to police yourself into acting proper or not. You ghost your fingers over the swell of his bicep as you walk inside, murmuring, “I’m sorry, I walked into something I couldn’t leave—, Mimi, oh my god.”</p><p class="p1">Your quiet conversation explodes into terrified alarm at the sight of his ex-girlfriend also in the room. But it’s not because of her presence. You know you would never dip into that petty jealousy again. It’s because she’s here, and looks like she has just gotten beaten to within an inch of her life. Her right eye is swollen and closed, dashed with a familiar plum hue you know well, her bottom lip is split is clean in two, and she has a galaxy of black and blue splotches along her cheek, visible under a bag of ice.</p><p class="p1">Your mouth drops open wide, not even trying to hide your shock as you gasp, “Fucking hell, what happened?”</p><p class="p1">“Hurts to talk,” Mimi slurs, eyes fluttering closed as she presses the ice pack further into her cheek.</p><p class="p1">You look to Jaehyun to answer the question for you and he sighs, “I’m pretty sure her jaw’s broken. Her second cousin or something’s a doctor who lives in the Windyville district of Pandora, I’m taking her there tonight.You wanted the reason why I’m here, this is it.”</p><p class="p1">That solves nothing. “But literally how.”</p><p class="p1">He collapses into the nearest chair, letting all of the exhaustion he’d concealed through breakfast to burst onto his face. His voice comes out muffled as he rubs his eye, “Ah, it’s been a fucking shit show. Where do I even start. Did John call you like he said he would?” You answer in the affirmative, and Jaehyun bends over his knees to start the story, the details you’ve heard from Johnny already, “So he gives us the bullet that was in his fucking chest, right? Here it is.”</p><p class="p1">From across the room, he tosses you a small plastic bag with a slug of stained metal inside. You let out a whistle of dismay at the state it’s in, knowing that it was your own friend’s collarbone and sternum that had borne the brunt of this damage.</p><p class="p1">“You can see it’s squashed and cracked all over from hitting him,” Jaehyun says, “yet I was still able to make out the hint of a stamp on the side. Even though it was covered with blood, I could recognize it because of you.”</p><p class="p1">You squint at the side of the metal, printed with John’s crimson life force, and you can make out a few etchings that aren’t just because of damage. You can’t tell what they are. “Me, what?” you ask, confused as to how you fit in all of this.</p><p class="p1">“You’re too good at what you do,” he compliments, but there’s no gratitude that can be borne out of it right now. “I recognized the peony because I’d seen them before on Mimi’s dress.” Your gaze shoots back down to the bullet, squinting closely, and you can make out the tangible curve of a peony petal, just like the one that you sewed. “And then I realized there was another flower on the other side of the bullet, mostly crushed from impact, that I’d seen before, too. A gardenia.”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes ghost over the spiral arrangement of petals engraved in the remaining space, unfamiliar with that particular breed of bloom. “My flower,” Mimi sadly garbles through her injured jaw, “and Binnie’s.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun had been at the youngest Kim’s blossom ceremony, had seen her flower blossom with his own eyes, you know he isn’t mistaking it for something else. And while there are many factories in the region that produce firearms, there is only one location that would use a peony and a gardenia as the stamp of its personal brand.</p><p class="p1">You turn to Mimi, very afraid to ask the question, “Wait, are you saying that, y-you, it was your father’s mill that made this bullet?”</p><p class="p1">A sparkling tear squeezes out of her eye, not just because of her physical afflictions. She whispers, “Yes.”</p><p class="p1">Your shaking hand pushes back your hair as Jaehyun tries to quell the pain levels in the room, “Let me finish the story. We decide to split up, Mark goes back to the mansion to get all the evidence he can, and I go to Mi’s, show her the bullet.”</p><p class="p1">Mimi starts to weep then, the gesture exacerbated by the still unexplained ruined jaw she’s holding, anguish pouring off of her in waves, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.”</p><p class="p1">It’s highly and grossly ironic, that this is what it’s taken for her to finally contemplate one drop of the grief you’ve been saddled with for the past few years. You’re struck with such a huge bolus of sympathy for Mimi that before Jaehyun can even get up to comfort her, you’re walking over to do it yourself. You crouch on the floor beside where she’s sitting, and hold her hand while soothing, “Shh, it’s okay.” She grips onto your hand for dear life, consumed by her crying, but you glance to Jaehyun to prod him along in his story. You don’t have time to experience any sort of breakdown right now.</p><p class="p1">“Found a day when there was nothing scheduled late in the evening, and we went over to the mill in the middle of the night. Walk in, there’s not too much in the entryway, but Mi knows the back way to her dad’s office,” Jaehyun pauses, gaze drilling a crater right into the space of floor in front of him. He can’t look at her, can’t look at you, can’t do anything but sit there and go a lurid shade of pale green. This can’t be good. He gulps a slug of apprehension away and reveals, “There were just tanks. Tanks and bombs everywhere. Tanks and tanks and tanks, bombs, random explosives, guns, guns, more tanks, bullets, guns, tanks. Honestly, it put America to shame.”</p><p class="p1">You feel as ill as Jaehyun looks.</p><p class="p1">Mimi’s father has been mass producing weapons of war? That’s what he’s been doing, not just making steel? He really manufactured the bullet that almost killed your best friend?</p><p class="p1">Agonizingly slowly, like she’s ripping apart every sinew still holding her jaw together, then doing the same with her heart, Mimi interrupts, “That was their deal for our relationship. I got the man I wanted, and Mr. Jung got weapons.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun looks up then, eyes glassy with the ghost of remembrance, of the abuse he’d endured not knowing what was going on behind his back. The three of you have been manipulated like grotesque little pawns, and there was not a damn thing you could’ve ever done about it. Just because of that, you hold Mimi’s hand even tighter, tuck her head into your chest so she can sob in peace.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know what could they possibly want that level of firepower for. Do we ever know? We haven’t had a single answer about any of this,” Jaehyun says, resigned to accept the darkness of the situation.</p><p class="p1">“God damn it,” you snarl, clenching your fist with your rising anger, “and the face?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun smiles, but there is no amusement behind it or his words, “Ah, you know how it is, there’s always a guard waiting. Mi was just unlucky that he didn’t recognize her and got to her before I could. Didn’t want to take her to a hospital in Neozone because we were sure her dad would end up knowing.”</p><p class="p1">You’re so, so incensed that parents act like this, in such a careless manner towards their children. Mimi’s prime beauty is going to be permanently affected because of the selfish actions of her father, and nothing she could’ve done would’ve prevented it.  You keep her cradled in your arm as you turn back to Jaehyun and start explaining at rapid speed, “I haven’t found out too much, but it’s all happening soon, I can feel it. Neozone regents have apparently been pledging their loyalty to Taeyeon, I heard her talking about it.”</p><p class="p1">He hones into the same hypothesis that had run through your mind earlier, “Is it the two of them? Have they been the ones behind all of this?” You’re not sure their relationship with his father and Mimi’s, but if they’re planning on taking over the Premiership, they will certainly need firepower. You need to get eyes out on this, more can be accomplished if it isn’t just you.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I think it’s them. Couldn’t say for sure though who else is involved, but we need to start narrowing our search down. Also, they know about the mansion but don’t know yet that we took everyone.”</p><p class="p1">“How do they know?!” Jaehyun bursts out, “Mark said he was going to get Colonel Huang’s son to help him again, that it was going to be discreet!”</p><p class="p1">“I think Mark took Sunny with him when he left.”</p><p class="p1">You answer as carefully as you can, but Jaehyun still reacts quite violently at the mention of his grandfather’s old housekeeper. She’s the one tie remaining that can prove his legacy to the region his father had shunned for so long. His knuckles go white where they’re gripping the arm of the chair, lip trembling as he tries to get out, “W-what.”</p><p class="p1">“He was there, and she’s gone, I can only imagine what happened,” you explain, not having the confirmation but knowing that’s something Mark would do. “You need to tell him to be really fucking careful with what he does. Do not go back there. If one of them returns to check, it’s not going to be good when they find that everyone has disappeared.” Taeyeon and Siwon hadn’t laid out any concrete plans of actually returning to their family home, you hope it’ll stay that way.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun snaps out of his stupor, recognizing that he can’t wallow in his personal misery when there’s work to be done. “Okay, yeah. I’ll call him on the road.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t stay for much longer, already thirty minutes have passed since your disappearance, so you begin to speak with more urgency, hoping he’s following along, “No sign of Regent Oh. Still looking with Ten, but no sign.I’ve seen Michael twice, Mark knows. He told me that in college, your dad, plus Premier Kim, John’s dad, and Do’s were all in this society club together. Called themselves the Sons of Neozone. You have any idea what that might be about, and if Siwon was involved in any way, that could help.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, yeah, got it all," Jaehyun confirms, typing away with fury on his phone.</p><p class="p1">You feel another tiny nod of assent from Mimi as she promises, “I'll find whatever you need.” Nothing like sudden and imminent danger to force you to become allies. You feel immense gratitude that she's set aside your personal wrongdoing against her to help out in this way.</p><p class="p1">“Great, thank you," you say. "I can barely do anything here, I’m watched like a hawk. So this will help.”</p><p class="p1">You squeeze her hand once more before you stand to head to the door. You need to go right back to the gathering now that they have all the information necessary to move forward without you. But when you walk past the other chair, and the sun shines particularly brightly in through the window, your heart gives you a pointed reminder that you have not, in fact, given them everything.</p><p class="p1">Your voice goes tenderly quiet as you spin in place to look at Jaehyun, and Jaehyun only, to say, “One last thing. The reason I think it all will be happening soon is because they are proceeding with a legal dissolution motion next week. A blossom ceremony will be held the week after.”</p><p class="p1">Mimi has the most dramatic reaction in the room, a bellowing gasp escapes from her mouth followed immediately by a groan of pain at her jaw exerting the effort. Jaehyun's lip curls up in that same mirthless smile, a wretched expression of <em>I expected this, </em>a sentiment which is echoed in your chest, <em>I hope you know that I don't want any of it.</em></p><p class="p1">“I know," he replies, simply, steely. "Dad told me.”</p><p class="p1">His unmoved reaction is broken by the candypop ringtone of what must be Mimi’s phone, and she appears apologetic to interrupt when she sees the caller ID, “That’s Hyojung.”</p><p class="p1">“I need to make a call, I’ll give you some privacy,” you offer up, before pulling out your own phone and exiting the room for real.</p><p class="p1">You can't have Jaehyun and Mimi go traipsing around without some semblance of backup, and Kyungah had promised that she’d be there for you no matter what. But it had been a false promise, you’re seeing now, because she still has not answered the fucking phone. You only call twice this time, knowing better than to waste time ringing over and over. You really include the second attempt to make sure the first had actually connected. As expected, met with nothing but the blare of dial tone. It’s infuriatingly frustrating, that you’ve looped around the same circle to arrive at this point, calling and calling for someone that will not answer. Should you have sounded the alert sooner, is there actually a chance Kyungah might be in harm’s way, and that’s why she wasn’t able to answer these numerous attempts at contacting her? You’ve been able to talk on the phone with Yuta a handful of times, they should be together in some capacity.</p><p class="p1">“What are you doing here?”</p><p class="p1">You yelp in surprise at hearing another voice in your ear, “What?!” You whip around wildly, trying to find the source of the intrusion, to find Baekhyun leaning against the wall behind you, eyeing you curiously. You sling the question back at him, “What are <em>you</em> doing here?’</p><p class="p1">“I live here!”</p><p class="p1">“So do I!”</p><p class="p1">“No you don’t, you live in the main residence,” he reminds you, sauntering along to stand in front of you and jut his chin out to the door. “Who’s in there?”</p><p class="p1">No one, no one, it’s no one, the answer is no one. You hate to say it, you trust Baekhyun about as far as you can throw him, you’re certainly not giving up this information without a fight. Perhaps if you wait him out in silence, he won’t be able to take it and will give up to go be loud somewhere else.</p><p class="p1">But your life is never designed to go right. The second you step in front of the door to better block it, you’re almost bowled over by it opening from the inside, Jaehyun’s silvery, concerned voice immediately echoing out into the hallway, “Hey, I just wanted—,” He sees that you’re not alone, and immediately straightens out into propriety, all soft nuance gone from his voice as he firmly states, “I’m going to head out to Windyville now, play a round of golf.”</p><p class="p1">Not good. That means whatever Mimi’s cousin had to say on the phone just changed all their plans. But now you’re in a situation where you have to keep yourself in the dark about it.</p><p class="p1">You put on your most annoyed, <em>who the fuck are you</em> type of voice and respond, “Okay, and why should I care? I’m just here on the phone.” You even rudely gesture with the device to make it seem like he’s the one intruding in on something.</p><p class="p1">“I thought the future Premier’s wife needed to know everything about everyone,” Jaehyun retorts, recognizing the game you’re playing.</p><p class="p1">“Only the people who matter.”</p><p class="p1">Though you hear Baekhyun’s stunned hiss of surprise at your harsh dismissal, Jaehyun doesn’t even blink, not fazed by the words he knows are untrue. You grasp Baekhyun’s elbow to escort him away from the scene. You walk down the hallway with your nose in the air, the perfect performance of a woman who supposedly hates the Vice Premier’s son. When the singer pushes forward to get the door for you, you take that whisper of an opportunity to hazard a glance back down the corridor.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is still standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes firmly on the breadth of your back as he watches you go. He’d been waiting for you to turn around, like you both had done at the party.</p><p class="p1">Your lip quirks up into a tiny, sad smile, upset that you had to treat him in that manner, and you mouth it quick, <em>Sorry</em>.</p><p class="p1">Not upset, he mouths back reassuringly, <em>It’s okay.</em></p><p class="p1">Baekhyun is the one who pulls you along this time, tugging you into the stairwell that leads out of the guest house and wasting no time to ask, “Wait, so you need to tell me about this fake marriage deal. What was that all about?”</p><p class="p1">Gripped with the fear of the unknown, of where this conversation might go, you start to blither in denial, “Kyungsoo already told you, it was something I was forced into—,”</p><p class="p1">“You can call me puppy boy all you want, but I’m not an idiot,” Baekhyun stops you from barreling past him, holds you firm on the landing so he can look in your eyes and discern if you’re lying or not. “You’re my friend, one of my closest ones, but you only sewed me my costumes after I paid you an exorbitant amount of money.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, and?”</p><p class="p1">He sighs, exasperated by your continuing denial, “He quite clearly did not pay you for that shirt he was wearing at the fan sign.”</p><p class="p1">“You don’t know that,” you deny yet again. “You just assumed.”</p><p class="p1">“Tell me, then. Why have I never seen Soo wearing something of yours before?” Baekhyun entreats you, not unkindly, but in a firm voice that lets you know he is not letting you escape out of this conversation.</p><p class="p1">He’ll go to bat for his best friend every time, regardless of his personal feeling towards you. So it’s tough shit for you, explaining this to him. You’d promised Kyungsoo once upon a time, long ago, in what seems like a different eon from now, that you’d sew him a shirt, convinced it was the right time to do so. That he had finally gained the honor of receiving a work of your heart. But so much has transpired since then, you’d only managed to make him one thing, less of a gift from your heart than it was an amelioration of his.</p><p class="p1">“I made him a pocket square before,” you reveal, thinking of how much turmoil you’d been in that night, for not knowing about the worst incident of his life. How you’d sewed in haste, wanting to see Kyungsoo smile again, if only for a heartbeat’s length of time. But that still doesn’t change your answer, that you’ve never made a lion shirt or a pineapple headband or a landscape needlepoint for Kyungsoo, though you’d once had him clutched in the deepest recesses of your heart.</p><p class="p1">Sewing Mimi’s dress was torture. Sewing Baekhyun’s costumes was little more than a job. Back then, sewing for literally anyone else felt like you were cheating on Jaehyun, as stupid as it sounds. But, of course, you were in denial about that, too.</p><p class="p1">“Answer the question. The first one.”</p><p class="p1">It aches to tell him this, because of the hefty bits of nostalgia it forces you to recall, “I didn’t take you to my house when we were in Neozone, but I lived at the top of that hill by the northern limit, all those white fields.” If there is such a thing as heaven, it’s probably a carbon copy of that sweet little hill. You stand face to face with Baekhyun and tell him the truth, “Jaehyun, he. He really is my neighbor, we’ve lived there since I was seventeen. I sewed for him a lot when we were kids.”</p><p class="p1">“But….?” he probes, knowing the truth doesn’t necessarily explain things.</p><p class="p1">You once again go with honesty, “There’s no but. At the time it happened, it was a fake marriage.”</p><p class="p1">That is your undoing, because Baekhyun deftly plucks apart your hidden meanings, “Right, interesting phrasing there, ma’am. <em>At the time it happened</em>.”</p><p class="p1">It definitely would be lying to tell him that it is simply a fake marriage now.</p><p class="p1">“B, I—,” your choked plea is cut off by his consoling hand spreading out across the breadth of your back. Perhaps Baekhyun can see the flash of desperation in your eyes, maybe even knows what it’s like, being in love.</p><p class="p1">“Let’s get you home before the guards start wondering where both of us are.”</p><p class="p1">You’re bursting to ask Baekhyun what he knows, if he has some wild hypothesis, if he’s mad at you. Above all, you want to ask him if he’s going to tell. Tell who, it doesn’t matter, Kyungsoo, Premier Kim, all of Dorado.</p><p class="p1">But it’s all shame on you, because you should’ve never stopped trusting him. When you get back to the breakfast, still in full swing with what must be the tenth round of drinks, Baekhyun cracks a joke about the two of you running off to burn those calories so you can drink more. The officials laugh in appreciation, fold you back into the conversations, and you don’t hear a single whisper of your fake marriage again from him.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the updates are coming fast because i want you all to have this story completed by christmas/new years! i've been posting since july! it's time! lol</p><p>thank you for reading, xo. </p><p>AND IF YOU HAVEN'T LISTENED TO KAI'S SOLO MMMH GO DO IT NOW! THAT'S MY SONG REC!!!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. rhododendron prunifolium</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“To get married,” you parrot, “I cannot already be married.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>no beginning notes today. simply enjoy! i actually really like this chapter :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Where’s Kyungsoo?”</p><p class="p1">You ignore the question to finish picking off errant lint from your skirt that you’re not sure is actually there. Fitting, that this black slip feels akin to a funeral garment rather than the one no-nonsense business dress you’d brought with you to the capital. Finally, when you can’t delude yourself into thinking there’s more lint, you glance up to answer a curious Baekhyun, “He went with his father and some of the other officials to begin the round of celebratory drinks. They’re not a part of the proceedings.”</p><p class="p1">Apparently that’s how they do things in Pandora, end a marriage, throw a party.</p><p class="p1">You must frown, because he points it out right away, “You’re looking quite… displeased.”</p><p class="p1">“I just want this to be over with. It’s unnecessary." You slip back under the water’s surface, into that role of pretending that you’re roaring to get your marriage struck from you, to destroy the one last thing you have.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun shoves his hands in his pockets, somehow as deeply uncomfortable with this conversation as you are. He dances around the subject, “Are you really okay with doing this? Like, I get that you…. love my friend but…” His hesitation on the affectionate word certainly does not go unnoticed, but you don’t have time to play the guessing game right now as to his motivations.</p><p class="p1">“To get married,” you parrot, “I cannot already be married.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, good luck with that. I’ll be waiting at the party, then.”</p><p class="p1">With your friend’s falsely cheery goodwill lathered as glue into the already fracturing pieces of your heart, you stand to approach the closed door of one of the mansion’s studies. Your guard had informed you it would not be an extensive meeting, just a few minutes with the appointed lawyer, so you brace yourself to get through this. But when you push the wood open and see that it’s not just the lawyer inside, your toe catches on the doorjamb, exploding a rocket of pain into your foot.</p><p class="p1">In an eerie copycat of the time you’d been sat before the Minister of Cultivation back in Neozone, Jaehyun is in a chair in front of the desk, twin chair beside him open as it waits for you. The throb in your foot aches when you realize that his father is off to the side, looming large as he stares you down.You hadn’t heard from him since your rendezvous with Mimi, you thought Jaehyun was still in Windyville. You didn’t think he was going to be here, that you would have to deal with him being in the room as you worked to snip apart the seams tying you together.</p><p class="p1">“Hello, Mr. Jung, Vice Premier Jung,” you greet them in quiet politeness as you rush to sit. “Before we start, I would again like to apologize for all of the distress this may have caused your family and your reputation.” No need to stoke the flames of his fire in such a distressing time, you’ll need to keep your wits about you if you want to get out of this unscathed. You, now stowing your panic deep inside, have an instinctual need to pinch the swell of your palm in a manner you haven’t had to in a long time, and you know Jaehyun notices, you catch his subtle intake of breath that he can’t control.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s father’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t appear too displeased as he introduces, “This is Henry Lau, our family lawyer, who Premier Kim assigned to work as a proxy for Neozone’s Minister of Cultivation.”</p><p class="p1">The smug looking man gives you a once-over that screams <em>I’m getting a big fat pay day out of this</em>, and his tone is not much improved in his condescension, “It’ll be a very simple process ma’am, just some paperwork we need to fill out and you will be good to go.” Henry makes a big show of pulling out the clipboard from his fancy Prada bag, and he gets right to work, “First, I need your legal name, and your bloodlines.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/f/n y/l/n, no middle name, my parents are…” You peer over the desk to make sure he gets both of your parents names down right, and are dismayed to find he already has Tactix written in bold letters by your mother’s name. Frankly, you’re surprised you have to go through this whole proceeding when it’s obvious what the main reason for this dissolution is — Jaehyun’s Elyxion father’s hypocritical hatred of you.</p><p class="p1">You’re privy to the emphasizing, enormously huge falsehood looming in this room, when Jaehyun sits up ramrod straight to give his information, “Jeffrey Jaehyun Jung, son of Jefferson Jung and Jaekyung Jung,” and you get to see that Henry already has Neozone and Neozone written out for the birthplaces of his parents.</p><p class="p1">You could ruin this all in one go—,</p><p class="p1">“First, I will need to know the reason why the marriage was entered in the first place.”</p><p class="p1">Your glance down to your ring finger, the shining crescent of moonlit silver is paired with the lovelorn, concealed sigh that only you’re primed to hear from the man beside you.</p><p class="p1"><em>Mr. Lau, I entered the marriage because I have loved this man since I was seventeen. </em>“I was instructed to by former Vice Premier Michael Lee, in his paranoid effort to keep me under his control.” <em>He has cared for me in a way that no one ever could. </em>“Mr. Jung was brought along because of Mr. Lee’s ill will towards the Jung family.” <em>It is only because of him I came out of that wretched time in my life in one piece. </em>“Mr. Lee knew that if Mr. Jung were to be wrongfully married, that would undermine fortuitous plans prepared by the Jung family for their advancement.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I entered the marriage because Jaehyun makes me happy.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Henry soaks in your long-winded explanation and moves to clarify, “So, it was purely a marriage borne out of sabotage.”</p><p class="p1">“Correct.”</p><p class="p1">“No personal feelings whatsoever.”</p><p class="p1">“Correct.”</p><p class="p1">He scratches down lie after lie after lie, you’re not sure how his pen and paper haven’t burst into the flames of hell licking up at you. Somehow satisfied, he moves on, “And now, your reason for dissolving the marriage at this time.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, I just told you,” you say, as politely as you can, because the lies you’ve spun have painted a pretty nasty picture of the circumstances of this marriage.</p><p class="p1">“No, there has to be a distinct reason from each individual. If this is perceived to be one-sided in any way, a deeper investigation will need to take place. Remember, typically the regions and the capital do not interfere in legal marriages performed elsewhere.”</p><p class="p1">Should you stop the lies? Pretend that this dissolution is unilateral from the Jungs’ side? You could draw this out as long as possible, lather yourself in the final remaining time that you’ll spend as Jaehyun’s wife. It’d be a selfish decision that would surely ruin the hard work put in by many, many good people, but could they blame you?</p><p class="p1">“Of course we will do this the proper way, Henry,” Mr. Jung forcefully intrudes, a reminder that both you and his son need to complete this in a legally binding way to be able to return to your lives without punishment.</p><p class="p1">“Ms. Y/l/n, you may go first, then.”</p><p class="p1">Ah, fuck. This is going to hurt like a bitch. This is another strand added onto your braid of lies, but this will specifically be designed to inflict emotional damage.</p><p class="p1">You press your thumb deep into the meat of your opposing palm, feeling the burn of the newly-healed skin there, and you grit it out, “I do not wish to continue in a marriage that I was forced into. Beyond that, I intend to marry Premier Kim’s eldest son Kyungsoo Do and need to be unattached to do so.”</p><p class="p1">“Mr. Jung?”</p><p class="p1">You have been doing the talking this whole time, Jaehyun has to take a very guttural clearing of his throat to force his raspy words out, “Why would I want to be with someone who I do not love or care for? Moreover, who clearly does not love or care for me in return?” You can’t help it, you turn to look at him then. He sends you such a cool, cold, calculating stare, you shiver as he finishes, “In legal terms, irreconcilable differences, perhaps?”</p><p class="p1">You’re such a foolish, weak-hearted girl. You’d just spent the past ten minutes steeling yourself for the hurt you knew was coming, yet you’re wobbling over a churning sea of disaster, unwilling to return to the time you were convinced you were nothing more to Jaehyun than a neighbor. To keep your lip from trembling in your misery, you bite down on it in a sneer, a return gesture that matches his displeased expression.</p><p class="p1">Henry eyes the two of you with amusement, bombarded with the sudden, stony impasse built up between the chairs. He quips, “If I may break the lens of professionalism to say jeez, it must’ve been hell for you two after that day if you can’t stand each other this deeply.”</p><p class="p1">It is the worst sliver of consolation, knowing you’re this good at pretending he doesn’t mean everything to you.</p><p class="p1">“Can we move along?” you bite, hoping Henry will think you’re displeased with the comment and nothing more.</p><p class="p1">“Certainly. You wish this record to be purged from your blood line?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” you confirm, which is echoed with Jaehyun’s answer, “I do.”</p><p class="p1">Henry takes a few minutes to scan through the form, and you don’t know why you suddenly start strangling the arm of the chair with more force than is necessary in your grip. From the questions you’ve already covered, you must be close to the end, you’re almost through with this. But perhaps it is your grief already manifesting as stress that is causing the wood carvings to imprint themselves in your palm.</p><p class="p1">His eyes snag on something uncompleted, and he circles it with his pen before he looks back up to the pair of you and asks, “Finally, the marriage went unconsummated?”</p><p class="p1">All three of you - you, Jaehyun, and Mr. Jung - choke on your own breath at the wildly inappropriate question that none of you had been expecting. Simply, why the fuck is that something of concern, this is no longer the Middle Ages.</p><p class="p1">“What,” Jaehyun continues coughing, “w-why is that a question?”</p><p class="p1">Thankfully, Henry recognizes the embarrassment he’d put you through if he jokes any more, and gives it to you quite professionally, “The potential of a child complicates matters. We’d have to settle what bloodline it’d be recognized under now that the record will be purged, discuss where they’d become a citizen, as such.”</p><p class="p1">Enough time has passed that you know this isn’t an issue they need to be concerned about. But what it’s done is unfurled a very specific fantasy you’ve not yet had the opportunity to spoil yourself in. So much of your one track focus had been on just getting to this point, having a beautiful life completed with the bow of matrimony, that you hadn’t ever wandered into the field of possibility of what came after. Your deepest, truest pragmatic self would say that one could not bring up a child in this world, knowing what specific horrors await them, knowing personally that a child could not remain innocent in their life here in Dorado. But how could you not reach for this specific petal on the wind, the conjured image of a giggling baby, stellaria braided into its hair.</p><p class="p1">“That won’t be a problem,” you sigh, phrasing subtle enough for them to understand, <em>no child. </em></p><p class="p1">How can you be regretting not having what you didn’t realize you actually wanted until now? You know how. It’s because you hazard a glance over at Jaehyun, and that icy impassivity from before is destroyed completely, his eyes clouded over with what you’re sure is an identical type of delusion. One that is slipping away from you both as this meeting goes on.</p><p class="p1">“You must confirm in legal terms.”</p><p class="p1">“Unconsummated,” Jaehyun answers for you when the word stalls in your throat, the most damning lie of them all if they were ever to find out otherwise.</p><p class="p1">“Well, normally I don’t say this during dissolution proceedings,” Henry smirks as he finishes signing off a few other boxes on the papers, “but congratulations, Mr. Jung, Ms. Y/l/n. You are officially no longer married. We will get these filed in Neozone as soon as we can.”</p><p class="p1">You hope with your entire being that they will interpret your and Jaehyun’s twin exhales as those of only relief.</p><p class="p1">You ignore Henry’s offered hand to help you out of the chair, entered into a race against time and circumstance to remove yourself from that stuffy, overwhelming room. All you need to do is make it to the quote celebration without having a breakdown in between. You just ended your marriage, you just severed the one last thing you were holding onto for dear life.</p><p class="p1">“Glad that was all sorted out, kids,” Mr. Jung’s voice echoes down the hallway, putting up an invisible barrier to prevent you from advancing any further away from him. As if you’re turning to face your doom, you rearrange your gaze to watch him stride forward, immensely pleased with himself, Jaehyun lagging behind him with his face dropped too low to make out any emotion on. Mr. Jung claps a hand on your shoulder, and his newlyfriendly tone inspires memories of the one time he’d talked to you fondly, at Sun &amp; Moon with Kyungsoo by your side. “Our families are still tied politically, so I trust you know to behave yourselves moving forward.”</p><p class="p1">He is only ever satisfied when he’s convinced you and his son are negative percent involved with each other. He thinks he’s ended it permanently, for good, forever. You wouldn’t put it past him to begin showering you with platitudes as a result.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, sir,” you murmur, reciting the words you know he’ll want to hear, “all of this was just because of Michael. You know <em>that</em> won’t be an issue moving forward.”</p><p class="p1">Like he’s been reading your remind, Jaehyun’s father heaps immediate praise on you, “Ah, Kyungho was right about you. I’m pleased the circumstances of your next marriage will work out for all of us.”</p><p class="p1">He smiles, the expression more grotesque than encouraging. He turns to his son and jerks his head in the direction you’re walking, compelling Jaehyun to catch up and walk with him. Your husband— <em>ex-</em>husband, now, obliges, keeping his head ducked so you still can’t pick out what he’s feeling. You’re both headed to the same place, the open doors are not even fifteen yards away from where you’re standing, but it is akin to having your heart cleaved straight out of your chest, watching him go like this. All of that impetuous suffering had been for naught.</p><p class="p1">You really feel faint when you walk into the lounge and it’s just a swath of merriment, everyone chatting over drinks like this is fucking after work happy hour. There’s nothing happy about this hour, people.</p><p class="p1">A warm hand descends upon the small of your back, a contrast to the chilled slickness of the glass then pressed into your hand. First, you glance down and confirm that you’re in possession of a heavily alcoholic drink. You down half the old-fashioned before you glance back up to hear Kyungsoo’s soft, yet uneasy greeting, “Hi, how’d it go?”</p><p class="p1">Forgetting who you’re talking to, you answer with dark sarcasm as you watch the Premier and Vice Premier clasp hands across the room, “Great, it’s all over. You shouldn’t have to hear about it anymore. I’m…”you quell your anger when you realize Kyungsoo’s staring in concern, and you sigh, “I’m all yours.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“Why?”</p><p class="p1">You’d apparently wrongly assumed that Kyungsoo would be bursting with happiness to be rid of the phantom of a man haunting your relationship. But he’s proceeding as if he senses some degree of fragility about you, and is actually quite sympathetic with his vocalized worry, “Well, regardless of whatever happened, I knew from little man that you two were friends at some point. Baekhyun likes him, too, you know. If all that drama ruined your friendship, then I’m sorry. Losing a friend sucks.”</p><p class="p1">And losing a true love is catastrophic. But you’ll not go tit for tat right now, especially when he’s taken care to be attentive of your tightly guarded feelings. You offer him a thin smile and say, “It’s okay. How are things here?”</p><p class="p1">He takes his own lengthy gulp from his glass of bourbon and groans, “You know, the usual - lots of drinking and telling people how into you I am.”</p><p class="p1">“Doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” you tease him, despite feeling no internal merriment.</p><p class="p1">“I mean, I’d brag about you any day,” he jokes, fingers lightly tickling at your back, moving careful against your scar in his remembrance of your trepidation. “But it gets tiring, feeling like our marriage is always everybody else’s business.”</p><p class="p1">You hadn’t expected that. He’s been full guns blazing about this engagement and marriage, not once expressing an ounce of hesitation for diving right into things. Here though, is a tiny fragment of remorse you’re going to latch onto.</p><p class="p1">“It will be like this forever, but that’s the life you chose,” you acknowledge, having had the immense displeasure of being what could be considered a public figure after the events of two years ago. Everybody will always want to know what’s going on, even if there is technically nothing to know.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t want to argue,” he snaps, thinking you’re trying to pick a fight.</p><p class="p1">But the thought hadn’t crossed your mind in the inspiration of causing an altercation. You were trying to express your sympathy in return, and now feel the need to de-escalate this, “I’m not trying to argue, Kyungsoo, it’s an objective fact. If we were back in E…” You reel yourself in before you can expose what you’d been doing before this and finish regretfully, “If we were back home, and we were dating, no one would care. But because we’re here, and you’re the Premier’s son, everybody does. That’s it.”</p><p class="p1">The morsel balloons into a swell of contrition, coming forth in Kyungsoo’s haggard, whispered, “Sorry.”</p><p class="p1">You shrug, not mad at him, “It is what it is, there’s no turning back now.”</p><p class="p1">To serve as very glaring punctuation mark on the sentence of your discussion, Finance Minister Noh appears out of nowhere to waggle his eyes at you before pulling your fiancé away and blabbering on, “Ah, Kyungsoo! So pleased to hear that you’re having a blossom ceremony next week! Staying true to our Neozone traditions, I see…”</p><p class="p1">You’re even kind enough to resist the urge to strain to meet his eyes and give him your best <em>I told you so </em>look<em>. </em>Instead, you watch him get pulled into a conversation he’ll surely hate and down the remains of your drink in solidarity as you survey the rest of the room again. Over by the big bay windows overlooking the city, there’s a throng of people clamoring with each other as they stretch to take pictures of the sparkling night scenery. But in the next panel of window over, there’s a lone figure standing with a drink in hand, forearm propped up on the glass as they stare out into the deceptive galaxy of lights.</p><p class="p1">You have no moments left to waste.</p><p class="p1">When you’ve placed yourself at the fringes of the gathered crowd, you hear it, the peal of a silvery voice, “Mi will be fine, false alarm that her father was coming to the city. Hyojung’s getting her fixed up.”</p><p class="p1">You shift your back so it will come across as you waiting in line for your turn at a cityscape picture, but you know he’ll hear your broken whisper, “Is it dramatic to say I might never be happy again?”</p><p class="p1">Though you’re not looking at Jaehyun, you can just picture the pop of his dimple when he laughs under his breath and replies, “Yes it is, drama queen.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re not funny.”</p><p class="p1">“Remember what I told you, alright.”He’s told you an infinity’s worth of beautiful things. It’s hard to pick out which one in particular he’s referencing, but it doesn't take long before it makes itself known, just as splendid as the first time he’d made the promise, “It’s just a piece of paper. We’ll sign a thousand and one pieces of paper if we need.”</p><p class="p1">You’re done pretending, you turn to gaze right at Jaehyun, finding it so desperately unfair that he is this handsome even shrouded in moonlight, even in his plain black dress shirt. You’re going to have to find a way to come to terms with only seeing him in these gasping bursts, like you’re drowning under the surface of temptation and these covert conversations are your lungs coming to life again.</p><p class="p1">“We lied to them,” you whisper again, voice cracking with fear and regret, “we lied to them about everything.”</p><p class="p1">His eyes cascade shut as he responds, “We didn’t do anything wrong,” sounding so unsettled, you know he’s trying to convince himself of the fact.</p><p class="p1">“They’re gonna know. People are going to find out.”</p><p class="p1">“And who cares if they do—,”</p><p class="p1">He can’t be flippant about this, not when you’ve seen how anyone who goes against the grain is treated here. You descend your voice to the depths below a whisper and confess, “I will not be able to handle it if they take you away from me, that cannot happen.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not going to be taken away, stupid head."" He doesn’t seem bothered at all by the idea, badgering you as if you were back in the good old days.</p><p class="p1">If you were having this talk in Neozone — in the privacy of your bedroom, cuddled up in the sewn quilt on your bed — you’re sure he would’ve done something exceedingly corny, like boop his knuckle against your nose, or squish your cheek and lay a kiss upon the bright red apple of color he would’ve brought about. All you get instead is the tiniest hint of a smile and the roaring sense of dread that ribbons through your sanity.</p><p class="p1">You really have no clue how you’re keeping it under control, that no one’s looked over to see you losing your goddamn mind with the harsh realities you’re punishing yourself with. Is this the purgatory you’ve been cast into? To orbit around Jaehyun like this, vivid memories in mind but only receiving the shadow of them in reality?</p><p class="p1">“But what, I just, I just marry him?” You’re struggling now, crippled and bogged down with the weight of your internal denial. “I didn’t really think it’d get to this point! So I actually marry him and what, you’ll wait around, see me like this, at random events where we can only speak two sentences to each other?”</p><p class="p1">“If I have to, yes,” Jaehyun answers, without a pause.</p><p class="p1">You scoff, “Come on.”</p><p class="p1">This is literally unsustainable, you’re both dangling on the precipice of emotional ruin already, keeping this up for an eternity would destroy both of you.</p><p class="p1">You have no clue where this well of strength he’s dipping into is, how he manages to continue on in composure, “I have made…. <em>so</em> many mistakes in my life, it would be the worst kind of sin for me to keep making the same ones. I already spent this whole time apart from you, I am not doing that for a life’s worth more.”</p><p class="p1">The diamond tear poised in your eye is the star that transcends all others in the night sky. If only the cameras were turned upon you now, they would snap the perfect image of all consuming devotion. That, and Jaehyun’s glittery grin, unable to hide the shine of it any longer, that crescent of muted happiness far more lustrous than the moon’s glow.</p><p class="p1">You shake your head, the flutter of hair a shield against the upward tug of your mouth. Once you’ve settled into the same neutrality, you voice your eternal question, “I still don’t get how you can be so blasé about this. It hasn’t bothered you this whole time.”</p><p class="p1">“Because I put you through worse,” he answers, honest and to the point. “And if you somehow still found me worthy enough to love after all of that, the least I can do is love you from afar.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t believe you ever relied on a flower to confirm that Jaehyun is your true love. It’s one of those obvious things, like how every silky morning, those pearlescent strains of moonlight diffuse into the painter’s palette of sweet pinks and sturdy oranges that bring about a daily sunrise.</p><p class="p1">“I lo...” The imminent promise is a familiar one, perhaps your most favorite, that you’ve sworn time and time again, to Mark, to Yuta, to John, to him. <em>I love you, for forever.</em></p><p class="p1">“Hey, can I borrow you for a bit?”</p><p class="p1">As soon as you register Kyungsoo’s deep voice, feel the touch of his hand against your elbow, the second syllable of the word transforms into something else, “Look forward to having a productive relationship moving forward, Mr. Jung, thank you for your time tonight.”</p><p class="p1">The grin is long gone from Jaehyun’s face, replaced with the straight set mouthline, his curt head dip in farewell. Gone is the swept up infatuation of two souls that might not ever be able to get over the other, replaced with nothing more than two newly divorced people having a rigid conversation over drinks. You allow Kyungsoo to lead you away by the hand, and exert enough force to not look back this time. He’s not as oblivious as the guards.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry,” Kyungsoo apologizes for the second time in the night, something you wouldn’t have thought him to do before. Never mind the fact that he’s done it right after taking you out of a conversation you’d been having with Jaehyun. “Father just wanted to speak about some details for next week.”</p><p class="p1">“No need to be sorry,” you defer to him, not wanting to seem like you have a preference between them, even still.</p><p class="p1">This night has already been bizarre, but it is by far the strangest, most sincere rush of emotion when Kyungsoo looks at you and says, “Like I said, he was your friend once, you’re allowed to talk to him. It’d be nice to know that you two were okay.”</p><p class="p1">This is a concession he doesn’t know he’s giving up. It is incredibly important for you not to push it to its breaking point, to not interpret it through a loophole so you can get your way. That would be unfair to him, to you, to Jaehyun, and would certainly place you in a whole host of danger. Moreover, you do not want to be insulting, because you know the reason Kyungsoo’s caved and said this. He’d been there during that time, - when you didn’t have Mark, when Yuta stayed within the bounds of his job description, when John kept himself an arm’s length away, and when Jaehyun was little more than the Regent’s asshole son. Kyungsoo never wants to see you that alone again, and god, if that doesn’t thaw an entire glacial pillar of your previous affection for him.</p><p class="p1">So, all you do is offer up a small head nod of acceptance, and act wildly and obviously pleased when Premier Kim lists out all the final details of the plans he has for your blossom ceremony. And you still feel like you owe Kyungsoo so, so, so much more.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Midway through a chapter in 1984, you sense someone’s presence hovering by the door, but it is not one that raises your hackles. In a serene moment you haven’t processed for some time, you peer up to see Kyungsoo leaning against the doorframe, idle, lost smile glued on his face. You choose to sit there in comfortable silence, to relish in this divine second of mutual longing for the past, and then Kyungsoo clears his throat to ask,</p><p class="p1">“Shall we go for a walk? May be the last nice day of the year.”</p><p class="p1">“Sure,” you answer quickly, putting down your book to grab your coat before you can change your mind.</p><p class="p1">This is the first time he’s done something like this in far too long, seek you out for no purpose other than to be in your presence. This is another collected shard of freedom you’re going to cherish, knowing that your relationship is going to permanently change after tomorrow.</p><p class="p1">He sends most of his entourage away, bringing along only two guards who stand at a respectable distance. That unspoken knowledge of the transformation of your liaison weighs heavily on the pair of you as you make your way out of the residence, through the wilting rhododendron bushes that are planted along the sidewalks. The two of you are stilted enough to not touch as you go, making sure there’s always a careful canyon’s distance between your hands. It’s a dramatic u-turn from all the fighting and flirting and everything in between that’s been conjured up since you’d shown your face here. Even the wind struggles in its quest to fill the silence, goading you on to make conversation so it no longer has to blow strong breezes itself.</p><p class="p1">You’ve queued up what you’re comfortable enough discussing, <em>you’re right, it’s quite lovely out for November, </em>when Kyungsoo metaphorically smacks you right in the face with his abrupt question, “Do you… do you still want to get married?”</p><p class="p1">He’s the epitome of anxious tension right now, shoulders hiked to his ears, lashes waving against his cheeks as he blinks, solemn jaw set as he regards your impending answer to his question. It’s surprising you’ve been given any sort of autonomous choice regarding this descent into matrimony. When he’d first asked you, you’d only agreed out of duty. Duty is the same driving force still moving you forward, but this is also the first instance of you feeling any sort of guilt about denying him.</p><p class="p1">Your false sentiment is clawing at you on the inside, even as you say what should be the right thing, “I ended the marriage for you, planned all of this ceremony stuff <em>for you. </em>I’m in this, for real.”</p><p class="p1">“Are you sure?” he wants to confirm.</p><p class="p1">You’ve never been less sure of anything before, wandering a path with no guidance. You only have one beacon of hope you can cling to, one that you haven’t dared to consider before, “Um… there is the little detail that our blossom ceremony won’t work....”</p><p class="p1">If he was anxious before, he’s straight spooked now that you’ve said it out loud, “I…”</p><p class="p1">“We haven’t talked about this, we need to. What is going to happen,” you ask him, not to accuse him or force his hand, because you’re actually, genuinely worried about this set of <em>what ifs.</em> “Kyungsoo, you can’t be in denial about this anymore. They are going to expect our flowers to bloom, and you know as well as I that they will not.”</p><p class="p1">“Father will expect us to get married regardless,” he answers blankly, staring off into the crowd of faceless people before you.</p><p class="p1">“But if we can just explain, this, this is not what the point of a blossom ceremony is about, even though we know we … love each other.”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t even register your careful footfalls around the expression, only repeating, “No, I’m telling you, Father will expect us to get married either way.”</p><p class="p1">You’re unsure if he’s intended for that to be a thinly veiled threat, but it’s certainly coming across in exactly that way. You really should’ve stopped to ponder the consequences of Premier Kim finding out that you are not his son’s true love, as much as at times you desperately wanted to be. “Shouldn’t we find some way not to embarrass him though, especially after putting on this whole spectacle? It happened to Ja—,”your words keel over as you realize what you were about to say, what you were about to reveal.</p><p class="p1">Too late. Kyungsoo’s eyes narrow as he thinly asks, “What happened to Jaehyun?”</p><p class="p1">“That’s not what I said.”</p><p class="p1">“What other person could you possibly be talking about?” He challenges you to lie to his face again after your instant denial.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo might be the smartest person you know, you’re wholly afraid of what he’s going to figure out when you tell him the long-concealed truth, “Jaehyun and Mimi had their blossom ceremony after we left for Elyxion. But their flowers did not bloom, and they were embarrassed in front of the whole city.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no time to react, his hand is around your bicep, jerking you forward so his wide eyes can search yours, “His flower didn’t bloom—,”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungie, is that you?”</p><p class="p1">There are few people he will accept the childish nickname from, your fight drops away the instant you see who’s before you on the sidewalk. The man’s shoulder length hair has been shorn into a short coif of peppery handsomeness, and his wife comes off as youthful as ever, this time in a bright yellow peacoat that matches the careful, cheery fall sun. Luna’s parents.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s fingers rainbow off your arm in his dumbfounded shock. “Soohyun, Eileen? What are you doing here?” You wedge your hand into his from the side, convinced he needs the manifestation of support right now. Each time he sees them must feel along the lines of purposefully stabbing himself open with a dulled blade, wrenching out each nerve ending once associated with a happy memory. You used to feel that way about seeing Michael.</p><p class="p1">Soohyun observes the pair of you with placid, affectionate regard and discloses, “Ah, you missed our call this morning, so we get to tell you in person.”</p><p class="p1">“Lu’s final thesis paper was finished by some scholars in the US today, and they submitted it for publication this past week to a Historical Review in their country!” Eileen chirps, with consuming pride and excitement over her daughter’s posthumous success, “Figured we’d come to celebrate for the weekend!”</p><p class="p1">“Oh,” Kyungsoo breathes out, unable to manage anything else besides the stunned exclamation.</p><p class="p1">That means it’s on you to muster all of your summoned enthusiasm, to hug Luna’s mother like you know she’s craving, to shake her father’s hand and compliment, “Congratulations on the publication, that’s such a huge accomplishment.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you so much, honey.”</p><p class="p1">One of the guards steps forward right at that moment with a phone call for Kyungsoo, and he removes himself from the group with a polite smile. You can’t tell if it’s actually a matter he has to deal with, or a purposeful interruption designed to free him from the bounds of crippling remembrance that seeing his deceased fiancée’s parents brings about. Left alone with them, you awkwardly bounce on your feet, choking yourself in haste to find a topic to talk about with them, experiencing imposter syndrome to the max as you take in their kind expressions.</p><p class="p1">“Um, I would love to hear what the paper was about,”you offer, quiet and appreciative of the woman who came before you, thinking of all the beautiful portraits of her that Kyungsoo had painted with his words of recollection. “From what I heard, your daughter was extremely intelligent and successful.” <em>Was the sort of incomparable woman that I could never live up to, no matter how much you want him to be happy. </em></p><p class="p1">“I forget the title, it was something long and flowery, but it was all about Taeyong Lee and his impact on the legacy of this nation,” Eileen explains, like every mother bragging about their child’s triumphs in life despite their lack of knowledge on the subject.</p><p class="p1">You’d known Luna got her PhD in Elyxion-Neozone historical relations, so this topic should comes as no surprise to you. But it’s Taeyong Lee, the almost mythical, mystical military leader that to this day, no one knows much about. All these decades later, he’s still only known for his prowess in battle and for setting up the Premiership, and almost no further details beyond that.</p><p class="p1">You carry the conversation along, “What were her paper’s findings?”</p><p class="p1">“The reason this got submitted into that prestigious of a journal is because she was really able to dive deep into Taeyong’s personal effects. Beyond his role in the Mad City Rebellion, no one knows much about him. But she, through her university connections and tracking down some of his close comrades abroad, found out so much interesting stuff about him. He had a wife and kids, owned a house by Ninth Cloud Lake after the war, had a tiny dog he loved walking, all of that.”</p><p class="p1">It is a provocative contemplation, to wonder how the hand of history will write your story in the years to follow. Will it encase you within the firm bounds of happenstance - that you were the unwanted glue binding two regions together after unspeakable tragedy? A less bloody but equally as harrowing, synonymous relationship with Taeyong’s old legend? Or would some scholar find out all the lovely details through passed down folklore - that you’d sew a field of flowers even in the barrenest of lands, that you grew up with five best friends, that you lived in this house on a hill.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo reappears, with his stress levels visibly heightened. His thumb digs into his eye as he mutters, “Shit, all the flower deliveries were wrong, we just have random flowerpots all over the place, we need to go sort it out.”</p><p class="p1">“Flower deliveries?”</p><p class="p1">Your hand is around Kyungsoo’s arm again, prepared to catch him if he faints like he appears he wants to. How exactly does one tell the parents of their beloved that they’re moving on with permanence? Luna’s parents were comfortable with you as a girlfriend, sure, and from Baekhyun’s stories about them, they seem like the kind of people who would find it so pleasing to know Kyungsoo was married after all. But to have this permanent reminder? There’s no telling how they’re going to react.</p><p class="p1">You take the lead so Kyungsoo doesn’t have to, taking a deep breath and revealing, “Ma’am, sir, we are having a blossom ceremony tomorrow.” When Eileen blinks a bit too rapidly, you rush to continue before she breaks down, “You can blame me full stop for your lack of invitation, I did not think you would find it comfortable to be there and did not want to rub anything in your face. But if you would like to have an invitation to the event, I will provide you with one.”</p><p class="p1">Truth be told, you hadn't thought about Luna's parents one second during your time in Pandora, but it's easier to blame yourself instead of do nothing. They were never supposed to see one, they were only supposed to be content knowing that Kyungsoo had loved their daughter deeply enough to cast the tradition aside. You would never fault them for saying no, but you want to give them the option, knowing their tendency towards selfless support.</p><p class="p1">Eileen is definitely crying, pressing her scarf against her cheeks to try and remain composed. Soohyun answers for both of them, “We uh, we’ll give you our info and decide. Thank you, honey.”</p><p class="p1">“Give them my email, too,” you instruct the guard, and then speak on behalf of your partner as well, “We would very much like to read her paper. It was so lovely seeing you.”</p><p class="p1">You give them a tender wave as you collect Kyungsoo’s hand and gently extract him from the interaction. Both groups know you’re not leaving just because you have some errands to attend to at the residence. Kyungsoo’s stark silence had ruined any attempt at making silly excuses for his behavior. But again, you cannot blame him in any way. As expected, he picks up the pace into a brisk walk, wanting to get back to be alone as fast as he can, but after having done this many times yourself, it’s not hard for you to keep up.</p><p class="p1">You don’t even huff that much when you start talking again, “I have an idea. For tomorrow.” That seems to grasp at least a crumb of his interest, and you start blathering on about the ridiculous plan you’d concocted while hearing about the fiasco flower delivery, “We steal some of the extra blooms before they take them away, have them ready below the table. Ask Baekhyun to make a scene right after we’ve poured the water on — maybe he can faint or something — and when no one’s attention is on us we quickly put the flowers on top.”</p><p class="p1">It’s not like you can just steal a new seed - beyond the fact you could never go to the Minister's office and back, once one’s flower is blossomed, there’s no alternative you can hope for. This is the kind of magic trick that would only work at a five year old’s birthday party. Or something that a precious twelve year old would devise himself.</p><p class="p1">At least it’s absurd enough to get him to crack a smile, “I mean, it sounds ridiculous. But I don’t really have anything better.” And at least he’s not in denial about it anymore, or is starting to come around to the notion.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah….” you concede, mind empty otherwise, “I guess I’ll keep thinking. But that might be as good as we’re going to get.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo shrugs, satisfied with this attempt, and adds, “Baek will be fine helping, he’s always in for shenanigans like this. I’ll ask him tonight.”</p><p class="p1">You really hate what you have to do next. If you could get your way you wouldn’t touch the subject again with a ten foot pole. But you’re again reminded of each and every time Kyungsoo would go out of his way to make himself uncomfortable to better your personal feeling, the way he’d pry out those sturdily buried emotions you didn’t want to confront. If you are to be his wife, it’ll be your job from here on out to do the same with him.</p><p class="p1">You ask it carefully, each syllable a finely spun eggshell, “Do you want to talk about seeing Luna’s parents?”</p><p class="p1">“Not really, no,” he answers instantaneously before swerving to change the subject, “I’ll um, I’ll go get the flowers. Which one should I grab for you?” The end of his question comes out in a staggered cough as the underhanded meaning moves into plain view. It’s not purposeful — his embarrassed reaction, the flush of his cheek and the tremble of his dark pupils, tells you that. But he’s asked it, <em>what is your flower?</em></p><p class="p1">That is a petal of truth you’ll cling onto for yourself until the bitter end.</p><p class="p1">You smile, trying to appear good natured and unbothered by the query, and give him a simple answer, “Get anything.”</p><p class="p1">He is a good enough man to let his face fall visibly only one degree, an amount missed by anyone else that isn’t attuned to his solemn sincerity. But he does not press, “Alright. By the way, we have to be ready by six tomorrow.”</p><p class="p1">“I thought it wasn’t starting until seven?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, but they want to get some pre-footage to use, you know how it is.”</p><p class="p1">It’s as obvious as Jaehyun being your true love, that you and Kyungsoo understand each other in a way that no one else does. <em>You know how it is </em>isn’t even an innocuous phrase, but the way he’s used it clues you into the apprehension that is boiling under his skin. Was seeing Luna’s parents the breaking point? Kyungsoo has been frustratingly, achingly closelipped about everything. He has to let you help him.</p><p class="p1">Before you can nod in acceptance or step forward to hold onto him tightly or do anything to express comforting sentiment towards him, he unhands you and stalks off into the gardens to go deal with the misplaced shipments. You swear to yourself you’ll catch him before tomorrow, do your best begging to get him to reveal all his feelings to you before you can take this step forward in collapse.</p><p class="p1">You decide to make yourself useful and talk to Baekhyun on your own, to give Kyungsoo one less thing to do. But you’re still so, so dumb, and forget the lurking possibility of what walking into the guest house could lead to. There's bustling commotion, servants and guests and guards walking to and fro, yet you're still scared the bejesus out of when you hear the call from the top of the entryway’s stairs,</p><p class="p1">“Ms. Y/l/n, a word on our dissolution papers?”</p><p class="p1">Your gaze shoots up to see Jaehyun there in the alcove at the top, discarded book on the chaise, cozied up into a soft grey turtleneck you’re sure feels divine.</p><p class="p1">“Mr. Jung,” you greet him in the same closed off manner before you turn to the guard, who nods with disinterest. The soldier stands in the middle of the foyer where he won't get run over by foot traffic, and you scramble <em>(but not too quickly)</em> up the staircase.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun meets you halfway, then the two of you stand a healthy distance apart. Pinning your expressions into neutrality is a hard task when he takes a cheeky recall back to your words after the dissolution, “Gotta get my two sentences of the day.”</p><p class="p1">“Better make them worthwhile,” you dare him, insinuation heavy with flirtation. You expect him to give it to you good right now, give you all the drops of cheesy corniness that he loves.</p><p class="p1">“You are going to look…. so beautiful tomorrow.”</p><p class="p1">He’s the worst kind of thief, stealing the breath right from your lungs with no intention to ever atone for the wrongdoing. You should be basking in the glow of his undiluted affection, but all you are experiencing is dread shriveling into a malignant tumor in the center of your chest.</p><p class="p1">“Please don’t remind me,” you mumble. “I just sent Kyungsoo off to steal some flowers, you know, because the blossom ceremony won’t work. Came up with this whole scheme and everything.” Now that you’re saying it out loud, it is such a ludicrous plan that’s not going to work. You're so doomed.</p><p class="p1">“If you need a sidekick, let me know. I’m good at acting,” Jaehyun puffs out his chest, like it would be the funniest thing in the world for him to help you pull off this illusion.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t get involved,” you warn him, gritting your teeth when he opens his mouth to retort and you’re forced to cut him off, “Jae, don’t.”</p><p class="p1">To his credit, he falls silent immediately. Crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall, Jaehyun thinks for a second, before he does the delicate song and dance of asking, “Why does he think that the ceremony is a wash, considering, I’m taking it, that he still doesn’t know about… everything else?”</p><p class="p1">Any person that’s supposedly deep in the trenches of love would be convinced to the point of delusion that they will see those precious flowers blooming when it came time. To Jaehyun, Kyungsoo is one of those people. You have to correct that, tell him a story you’d nearly forgotten about, “I told you that back then, we were going to get married to receive the government stipend, but we decided to do so when there were a bunch of Elyxion people at the house. They brought it up, thought it would be funny if we did one for them… and…”</p><p class="p1">There is no humor in his voice as he completes your sentence, only sympathy, “Didn’t bloom.”</p><p class="p1">“Didn’t bloom,” you echo, in a flashback to the crushing relief you’d felt when you didn’t see a cyclamen unfurl from the dirt of Kyungsoo’s mug.</p><p class="p1">“Make sure your scheme tomorrow works out then,” Jaehyun orders, that note of humor returning as a dimple flashes with his grin. “Otherwise we both will have been embarrassed as shit by our ceremonies. Maybe that’s why we ended up together.”</p><p class="p1">His earnest sympathy had brought about the first feeling of peace you’d been longing for, but his turn back into artful sarcasm has you coiling with worry once more. You wish with all your might you possessed the same confident ease that has taken him over since he’s arrived to join you in the capital. Jaehyun’s convinced to the point of delusion — that same hallmark of true love — that he can deal with it all. But being embarrassed is not your only consequence here. You glance down to the guard, noting he hasn’t begun to raise any alarm about the length of this conversation. None of the patrons loitering in the entryway seem to be paying attention either, brunette, black, blonde, silver heads alike not turning to look at what you're doing. But there’s no alleviation of your stress, only a smarting reminder you can’t stay here with Jaehyun.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t stay much longer before he gets suspicious,” you grunt, before scrunching your face at him and quipping, “plus, you’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”</p><p class="p1">“Honestly, maybe you should blow it with the flowers. They’d let you off the hook, probably,” Jaehyun hides it under the cover of another joke, but it’s there, the atrocious hope that you’ll somehow return to him tomorrow.</p><p class="p1"><em>Father will expect us to get married either way. </em>You shake your head, “They wouldn’t.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun sinks down onto the chair and picks up his book, crossing his legs and settling into the ideal image of a conversation coming to a close. You turn to descend the stairs, recognizing you’ve crossed the threshold of appropriate time to have spent with him. But when your foot takes the first thunderous step away from him, you pick out the tremulous strains of his heartfelt final joke, the one that finally manages to get you to crack a smile, “Then you better have magic hands with that flower switcheroo, Mrs. Jung. Wouldn’t want to dishonor your real husband by blowing it with your fake one.”</p><p class="p1">It's his quiet promise to you, that you'll be his until the very end.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i'm really so excited for this final set of chapters, i think it's some of my strongest work and i'm really proud of them. please keep letting me know what you think, your comments are what i strive for to improve! i really cherish them! thank u so much for reading</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. rabelera holostea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"You are the greatest love I will ever have in my life."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i know i've said this about a lot of time before but this is probably my actual favorite chapter. your song suggestion comes at the start because you should listen to it while reading!</p><p>taeil (block b) - it was love: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IlwlCdrQ0Cs</p><p>tw: light, light blood mention</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You hold the scissors in your hands, daring yourself to do it.</p><p class="p1">You loathe the way they’ve done up the back of your dress - the satin bunched at the neck in an overcompensation for the coverage you wanted, a trail of tiny pearl buttons down the length of your spine a not at all subtle message of <em>don’t look here, don’t look, she hates it. </em>It’s objectively a beautiful gown, a draping waterfall of ethereal ivory, but again, you can’t stomach the sight of it, loathe it, hate it, whatever.</p><p class="p1">You’ve already had a horrific start to the morning. You spent all of breakfast tearing through the grounds looking for Baekhyun, couldn’t find him, couldn’t find Kyungsoo either, and by the time you got back to the room, it was time. The scissors? Well, when you’d stepped into the garment only moments ago, you’d set off in a roaring flash, tearing through the items in your bathroom in a frenzy that nearly upended the work the stylist just did on your hair.</p><p class="p1">The sting of the metal into your palm goads you on, prods you, compels you. You want to take the tool right to the specifications you’d asked for, rip apart the seams, and let the entirety of your scar go on display. If it’s all of you that they want, they are going to have to make do with being uncomfortable at the sight of it. After all, you’ve suffered every day, looking into the mirror like this, still unable to tone down the vivid clarity of the scar’s origin story.</p><p class="p1">“Hello?”</p><p class="p1">Someone’s here. In your haste to conceal the instrument, you accidentally prick a hole in your palm, eliciting a muffled cry of pain from your mouth as the newly-healed flesh from your mishap with the window re-opens again.</p><p class="p1">“In the bathroom!” you call, then let out another silent sob of misery when you press your hand into the middle of a towel, hoping you won’t drip blood all over your white dress. Keeping the pressure on, you peek around the half-closed door to see if a guard is here to retrieve you for the proceedings, or if it’s just the camera crew here to set up.You accidentally pulverize your hand with how hard you clench it when you see who it actually is though. “How did you get in here?!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun clutches his jacket tightly to his torso as he glances around in consuming confusion, mouth wide open, brow furrowed, before he stutters, “B-Baekhyun said he had an album preview he wanted to show me—, wait, this is <em>your </em>room, not his? I thought there were supposed to be guards!”</p><p class="p1">Oh, no. Baekhyun is too generous for this. That means he figured it out, put it together that you’d sewed for your neighbor because he was the boy you loved. He's somehow organized an actual deception to allow you two a single moment of privacy before everything is destroyed.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” you answer, light-headed in your attempt to quell the bleeding once and for all.</p><p class="p1">But after a few more seconds, you give up and go running right out of the room to confirm that Jaehyun is actually there. He keeps hugging his jacket to himself in a gesture of security as he takes in the sight of you. Your hatred for the dress escalates straight into hostility the moment Jaehyun’s golden eyes crystallize with dewiness.</p><p class="p1">You feel like a fraud, standing before him in a dress your mother hasn’t sewed. It’s not much different from a standard wedding gown, which soils the excitement of waiting to pick one out for that occasion. There’s really no redeeming quality to it. Thick, sleeveless straps covered in tulle, surely added by Jennie to conceal the topmost part of the scar dashed against your shoulder, a cinched waist that wreaks havoc on your already labored breathing, the overlay of lace onto the train evolving into a manufactured, not handcrafted, field of daisies. The most basic, uninspired recall to the region you’re half from. You’re done up to the nines, in a face of suggestive makeup the men of Pandora will surely like; the new length of your hair allowed the hairdressers to add slight curls, to again twist the bland daisies — the wrong white flower — here and there in your locks. You should feel like a bride, but all you feel is like a traitor.</p><p class="p1">“You, you look—,” Jaehyun breathes out, trying to actually speak and failing, hands falling down and jacket slipping out of his grasp in his paralyzed torment.</p><p class="p1">You taste the tangy salt of blood when your hand flies to cover your mouth in surprise at his inadvertent reveal of his outfit. You beat him to the punch in saying something in reverent awe, “Where did you get that shirt?”</p><p class="p1">If your clothing is the epicenter of a universe of duplicity, his is all sincerity.</p><p class="p1">It is a relatively simple outfit for someone who’s attending a blossom ceremony - just a suit jacket, dress slacks, and a button down all in the same subdued hue of navy. But it’s never just that with Jaehyun. Your eyes are drilling a crater straight through him as you gather up the sight of the golden threads spun across the breadth of his torso, turning introspective as you tally through all of the shirts you’ve made for him over the years. Each one is marked out in your nerve endings, a precisely unforgettable memory.</p><p class="p1">You don’t remember this, the delicately sloping branches, the dainty leaves symmetrical to a pair carved into a ring you safeguard, the strength of a sturdy trunk crawling upwards from his right hip. You don’t remember sewing Jaehyun this shirt - a shirt covered in the pattern of an oak tree, the kind that stood shelter over your old house. Your personal version of the storied Tree of Life. But it looks just like a pattern your heart would design.</p><p class="p1">“Your mom made it for me,” he whispers.</p><p class="p1">Of course. That cool navy silk had been draped over your legs, you’d been in solemn conversation with your parents whilst sewing nondescript gold bars all over the fabric. Gold bars that became beckoning branches, that became the fragile little ends supporting tender leaves, soaking up the life-giving sun so an oak tree could stand proud.</p><p class="p1">“With me. That was the last thing I sewed before I left, I didn’t know what it was going to be,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him as you contemplate what your mother’s done. Did they sit together the nights that you were gone, missing you? Did she ask him about his life, ask him about his favorite color or about the kind of cookies he wants to get sent at Christmas? Did she remember that he asked you to sew him something for your wedding, is that why? You swallow thickly, moved that your mother knew your heart's desires like this, and you sigh, “Trees like that grow in my backyard. In Tactix.”</p><p class="p1">There’s not a flower in sight, it’s perfect. That clearing of oak trees in your backyard were the pinnacle of protection for you at a time. He is that for you now.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t,” Jaehyun gasps out of the blue, detonating into a frenzy of uncontrolled panic, “I can’t do this.” He throws the jacket down on your chaise to tug at the fringe of his bangs, and the disheveled way it stands on end echoes his ghastly reticence, “I thought I would be okay with it, but I’m really, really not. I’m really not okay with any of it.”</p><p class="p1">He’d ended your conversation on a joke yesterday, you’ve never seen him in this kind of state before. “Where is this coming from—,”</p><p class="p1">“You said it yourself, I’ve been acting like an idiot this whole time!” He’s trying not to yell in frustration, you can tell by the way his fingers are digging into his skull, how he’s starting to pace. “Trying to prove that I was above it all, that it could never bother me because I knew the truth. But it’s been killing me, literally killing me.” Jaehyun stops to stare straight at the wall, but his tiny, heartbroken voice shoots a straight shot to you, “It was supposed to be <em>me.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“It <em>is</em> you.”</p><p class="p1">“And now you’re here, looking like you’re about to get <em>married, </em>and it’s that fucking day at Sun &amp; Moon all over again.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>You showed up to Sun &amp; Moon that night, the prettiest girl in the world, maybe ever. You wore that dress. Had your hair down. I was yours forever.</em>
</p><p class="p1">He can’t look at you.</p><p class="p1">This was never not going to hurt. You really have been so fucking in denial about this, maybe even more than him.</p><p class="p1">“I, I thought we were on the same page about this all,” you say, trying to sidle up to where he’s standing so he can’t continue to ignore you, but he keeps turning away. You lift your skirts to pick up the pace, to force him to meet your eyes when you remind him, “This was a political decision, and you know it.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun physically stops you with his arm, then immediately swivels the other way as he groans, “I can’t look at you in that dress, I really can’t deal with this.”</p><p class="p1">“Come on, you gotta calm down and talk to me,” you order him, once again attempting to get into his line of sight, end his avoidance.</p><p class="p1">You think maybe he’s going to cave when he doesn’t try to blockade you again. But he doesn’t attempt a civil conversation, his anxiety only skyrockets, “We should go, we should get out of here right now,”</p><p class="p1">“What on earth are you saying—”</p><p class="p1">“New York, Barcelona, Seoul, we can go wherever we want. We just have to go before they take you from me,” Jaehyun begs to the point of open suffering, drawing out a trill of pain from you he doesn’t catch when his hand shoots out to grab your wounded one.</p><p class="p1">“Stop it!” you hiss as you snatch your hand away, cradle it into your chest, hoping that he hasn’t reignited the bleeding. Hoping that the peaking tone of his voice hasn't accidentally summoned the guards before you've had your heart filled with the memory of him.</p><p class="p1">It’s horrible to see him in this state, haggard and heartbroken, but you can’t deal with the role reversal. Before tonight, it had been you devastated on the ledge of a breakdown, tormented by the idea of only seeing Jaehyun through the whispers of the wind and the braggadocious promises he’d made to love you no matter what. However, if he’s this beaten down by the prospect of not having you, and there’s no one strong left here, you’re both subject to total defeat.</p><p class="p1">“It’s unfair! You have to admit it’s unfair!” Jaehyun blusters, and you already know this is going to devolve into that same kind of awful fight. “He gets all of the good and none of the bad. The fancy party, you in the dress, the deluded, yet comforting thought that he’s sure you love him back.” This is what it boils down to: the selfish regret, the scars from the dark ages of your separation that neither of you have been ready to bare, all manifesting in his ragged lament, “We hated each other when your flower blossomed! Mine blossomed when we were both wrecked because of what happened with John and Michael!”</p><p class="p1">Ah, Jaehyun, you’ve just closed the door on yourself without even knowing it. He’s given you the reminder of why you’ve done this in the first place, what’s coaxed you into becoming the immovable object you know you are. You are immeasurably sorry that this wound will be self-inflicted for him this time.</p><p class="p1">“That’s exactly why this has to happen,” you state, kindhearted but unyielding in every way, only getting more firm in your resolve as you repeat, “this is political, not personal. I’m not choosing him because I love him, I’m choosing him to save <em>everyone.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“Agh, your mom told me you would do this!” he cries.</p><p class="p1">You can just hear your mother’s soft words, hypnotizing in their effort to draw him in to aid her, <em>you have to stop sweet pea before she does something she promised she wouldn’t. She cannot be a martyr. </em>But she is too selfishly mistaken if she thinks that this is anywhere close to martyrdom. You’d been a sword’s length away from that before, and you are much less afraid of approaching that point again.</p><p class="p1">“Because she knows who I am! <em>You</em> know who I am!” you retort, because Jaehyun Jung was put on this earth to know every bit of you. “If I could go back and have me die instead of the kid, I would do it. This is the exact same thing.”</p><p class="p1">You have not once voiced it to him, to Mark, to your parents, to anyone, but it is an unfailing thought that reverberates in your head every single day. If you were blessed with the fortuitous skill to turn back time, you would not choose to return to that penultimate day before your parents sent you off to the train station, nor to the floor of his birthday party, nor to the steps of the Neozone greenhouse. You’d go right back to that cold, open space, and have that sword carve open your chest instead of Jeno’s.</p><p class="p1">“One marriage isn’t going to change anything!” he challenges you, thinking he’s found a way to get the upper hand. But no.</p><p class="p1">“If it keeps me in this family, where I can find out the truth about Michael, I’ll do it. If it stops Pandora soldiers from lurking around our city, I’ll do it. If living here, being married to the Premier’s son, never speaking to you again, keeps Dorado intact, keeps you and Mark and John and Yuta and my parents and everyone from Elyxion safe, I’ll do it.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun knows you’re at the point of no return, dropping all desperation to begin his soft pleading, coming from the very depths of his heart, “There has to be some other way, none of this should rest all on you.”</p><p class="p1">Every little part of this nation wants every little bit of you, and you’ll give it to them. If they want you to renounce your mother’s bloodline, you’ll have every inch of your future home lined with fragrant flowers and have the Neozone flag proudly displayed in your yard, without a second thought of those beautiful oak trees. If they want you to be the perfect Premier’s wife, you will smile and wave and parrot up all the platitudes about the state of the nation you can come up with.If they want you to be the proud mother of the future, you’ll wear your apron and bake pies and do all the stay at home mom pictorials they want you to, braid flowers into your babies’ hair, and not hold one ounce of regret in your chest.</p><p class="p1">But this is all contingent on a very specific set of return offers.</p><p class="p1">Michael needs to see his wife again, needs to plant lilacs on Jeno’s grave with Mark when he gets back to the mansion. Your parents need to be able to water a fresh row of bluebells outside of your home in Elyxion, knowing they’ll be thinking of you often now that you’re gone. John needs to flirt with the hot doctor at least once more. Yuta and Seulgi need more time to fall deeply in love. You’ll submit yourself to being the glue Pandora craves to splice this nation together, but only if all of your heart’s desires are fulfilled in this way.</p><p class="p1">Those desires, plus one more. That Jaehyun never forgets he was always your true love. Him, and nobody else. </p><p class="p1">You bare yourself to him - all the pieces of you they’re going to take, all the pieces only he’s ever known - and you confess for the last time, “Jae, you are the greatest love I will ever have in my life. And I am so lucky that, at least once, I had the privilege of knowing your sweet heart.”</p><p class="p1">He is so sweet. The sweetest, sweetest boy. You’ll love him forever for that alone.</p><p class="p1">You remind yourself that you’re not yet a martyr. You’re still an icon, a girl who had lost everything to save a boy she loved once, one who is ready to do it again. And you tear it all to pieces, “But my first choice will always be to save my family, every single time, no matter the circumstance.”</p><p class="p1">He is your family. There is no spoken reminder necessary of what that means, that the punishing hand of his father will never be cast again in his way if you’re out of his life. No threats, no soldiers choking his personal space, no soul-wrenching orders that cut across the grain of his being. He is your family, this is for him.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun graces you with the smallest, saddest smile, dimple labored in its appearance, the sweep of his hand — his left hand, still adorned with that slip of gold thread — through his hair, leaves it in a disarray of beauty. He bends to your iron will, “Okay. Okay.” An equally shriveled laugh bubbles from his lips, with a flash of pride in his eyes, longing, love, sorrow far and wide, and he fully gives in, “You never need my permission to do anything. But okay.”</p><p class="p1">This is it. Let him go, y/n, you fucking coward. Don’t cling on for dear life and break his heart any further.</p><p class="p1">“If you can’t handle the ceremony, if you want to head home, if you can’t stomach seeing me again, do what you have to do, Jae, I’ll be fine,” you offer as diplomatically as possible, shredding yourself apart as you start to walk past him to the bathroom. “Tell me what you need me to do in return.”</p><p class="p1">He should just gather up his coat and go before he —,</p><p class="p1">“Let me kiss you.” You whirl around at his tender request to find him propped up against the back of the chaise, the drip drop of invitation dancing in his eyes as he cajoles, “One kiss, and then I’ll go, Mrs. Jung.”</p><p class="p1">The nanoscale build of your heartbreak explodes into the teary way your voice wobbles over your broken statement, “You can’t call me that anymore.” You fold your hand into itself, feeling the bare brush of your ring finger against the aching swell of your palm, bare because you are no longer his wife. Will never be so again.</p><p class="p1">“Once, y/n,” Jaehyun pleads, your name never sounding lovelier than it does when it comes from his lips. He thoughtfully pries your fingers into his sturdy hold, to gently pull you over to stand between his legs, the silk of his shirt an ameliorating sensation against your skin. He uses his unoccupied hand to luxuriate through the expanse of your freely loose hair, a sight he used to long to see. And when your fingertips dot upon the arc of his cheek, thumb smoothing out across the cavern of his dimple, eyes staring into the steady affection of his golden ones, he whispers in an echo,“Just once.”</p><p class="p1">Your chin dips in a heavy, heavy, instinctive nod, and the beautiful, restrictive word <em>once </em>disappears in a haze of comely attachment as Jaehyun brings his face to yours. He cradles the back of your head, a sunny patch of warmth emanating from his palm, and his mouth nudges out a symphony of forever against yours. As you kiss, your lips dare not part from his, an ingenious loophole to his promise of just one. The first kiss is followed by a desperate series of presses of your lips upon each other's, his top lip ensnared, then your bottom lip pricked with amour, then meeting at the core of it in a incandescent kiss of eternal yearning, <em>you’re mine</em> and <em>I love you </em>and <em>goodbye </em>all in one. He’s everywhere, tongue sly in your mouth, fingers in your hair, legs pressing into your sides; you’re clutching onto him for dear life, his hand the anchor in the eye of a storm that will surely break records in its devastation.</p><p class="p1">But you’re too fervent in your strength, the sensation of something slick against your left palm tells you that. His lips regretfully depart from yours, followed by a duo of harsh exhales and his nose crashing into your nose as he glances down to see what he’s touched upon. When he sees the slightest red tint of his fingertips, he looks back up to ask, “What happened?”</p><p class="p1">You step back out of his embrace, in a pointless effort to control yourself enough to answer. You hold out your hand to show him the bloody pit from the scissors, the lingering disfigurement from the window, and sheepishly explain, “An accident. A few of them.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun reaches out to poke your cheek, a teasing way to say <em>of course this would happen to you, </em>but his hand does not fall right back to his side. He plucks your fingers into his, like they’re the last beautiful sprig of stellaria he wants to cherish forever, and he holds them in his lap for a second as he thinks. He peeks up at you from behind his long, fluttering eyelashes, such an alluring stare, then he laugh-murmurs, “What are you going to do without me?”</p><p class="p1">Perplexed at what he means by that, you’re about to ask him to clarify when you feel some kind of cloth swiping against your palm. Worked into silence, you refocus your attention to see Jaehyun wiping away the blood from your hand with the navy pocket square that was previously tucked in his jacket. Biting the corner of his cherry, strawberry, raspberry red, thoroughly kissed lip in his concentration, he cleans away until there is not a trace of the crimson essence left upon your hand or his.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a light honeysuckle’s petal of a kiss upon your broken skin. He folds your fingers over your palm, like it’s a gift for you to keep forever, and finally lets go.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Was there ever a moment for you where you just knew you’d never love anyone else?</em>
</p><p class="p1">Once more, this is it.</p><p class="p1">You’ll never see him again after tonight, you know this for sure. <span class="s1">So, you’ll savor your last look at Jaehyun Jung, your boy from home. </span></p><p class="p1">You would be loathe to start off at anywhere other than his dreamy beauty, the handsome face that’s enchanted you for so long, that you’re lucky enough to have seen almost every day for all these years. His charming, curly hair and swoon-worthy dimples, the lithe grace of his body, a mega-watt smile that could’ve conjured up enough external energy to power you through your darkest days. But you can’t stop at that superficial depth. All of his marvelous qualities are sewn into every bit of him — his supportive strength billowing out into his broad shoulders, his big hands a bastion of comfort, the flecks of gold in his eyes the buoying lifesavers that had dragged you back from the depths of ruin. And in the center of it all is his beautiful heart, encased in a shirt you’d sewn for him.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is your true love, and you are his, just as the frosty moon of the night gives way to the fiery sun in the morning. Just as the stellaria in your yard blooms through every season. Just as the tall oak trees stand watch over your home in Elyxion. And this is you repaying him for all of that love.</p><p class="p1">“What’s going on?”</p><p class="p1">You are so entrenched in this deception that at the sound of a third voice entering into the foray, neither you nor Jaehyun jump in surprise. You simply glance over to the door like you’re having a normal conversation interrupted, not the severing of the most all-consuming thing you’ve ever been a part of. Kyungsoo is in the doorway, two bunches of flowers in his hands. There’s nothing to give you and Jaehyun away, you know that for sure — you’re no longer kissing, not touching, you’re not even standing closely, neither of you have dissolved into tears. Perhaps that’s why Kyungsoo doesn’t look particularly mad. Did Baekhyun let something slip?</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun shoots him a polite smile, the nicest one he’s sent the other man’s way in some time, yet doesn’t offer an explanation beyond, “I was just on my way to the ballroom, don’t let me hold you up.”</p><p class="p1">“Everything alright in here?” The fourth intruder’s greeting is the one that shoots terror into the base of your spine, spreading tingly numbness out into your limbs. Jaehyun’s entire body immediately twitches when he hears it too, trying to decide if he wants to hide or bolt.</p><p class="p1">At the sound of his father’s voice, Kyungsoo springs into an action you don’t expect, grabbing the door and trying to push it closed as he orders,“No, let’s give y/n a second, please, let’s wait.”He waves an angry hand through the crack, ordering, “No cameras yet. Hold the cameras—,”</p><p class="p1">A disobeying buffoon, probably with the reporting crew, blows past Kyungsoo’s instructions and slams the door wide open. You screw your eyes shut in fear at the anticipation of having a camera shoved in your face once again, so you only hear it, “Why, aren’t we supposed to be getting a group shot of you two lovebirds—, Jaehyun?”</p><p class="p1">“Dad?”</p><p class="p1">Oh, shit, shit, shit.</p><p class="p1">The fear you’re crushed with when you open your eyes is a particular order of magnitude more cruel than what video cameras inspire. Because what you get is the tableau of Kyungsoo, Premier Kim, Taeyeon, Siwon, and Vice Premier Jung all spilled into your room, trying to make sense of what they’ve walked into. But the unease is only billowing out from one corner, where Jaehyun’s father is stewing in his contemplation as the only one wearing a face of negativity.</p><p class="p1">It’s back to work for you, slipping into your role and continuing the performance with a demure, “As I was about to explain, Mr. Jung got lost on his way to the ballroom. I was in here getting ready when I noticed he walked in, and offered to give him directions.” The flimsiest excuse of them all, but they seem to buy it, recognizing how large the residence is, knowing how little time Jaehyun’s spent here. Not having any kind of idea what sort of past you two share.</p><p class="p1">Siwon even nods in approval, like he’d do something similar himself. He actually tries to move things along, “Shall we proceed, then? Mr. Jung, you may go if you need.”</p><p class="p1">Here we go, Jaehyun’s going to walk out the door and that’s going to be it, the final chapter in the epic, the flourishing note of conclusion played by the orchestra. That’s all it takes, your composure is flown out the room, you’re barely hanging on. Please, please, please, please, y/n, don’t do it until they leave, don’t erase the dispassionate expression on your face, don’t blink, don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t give any of yourself up so freely.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun stands up slow, like he’s lazy rather than longing, like he’s unbothered to the maximum instead of trying to steal one last glance at you. He arrogantly runs his hands through his hair, then moves to smooth out the wrinkles in his embroidered shirt, straightening out the oak tree trunk across his torso.But you catch it, the subtle tap of his ring finger over the branch sewn by the middle of his chest, and your foundation crumbles away completely.</p><p class="p1">A teardrop flecks against the apex of your eyelashes.</p><p class="p1">You’ve already had the aggrieved fight, the passionate goodbye, why is your body choosing to betray you at the moment you most need it not to? Hold on, please hold on, they’re getting up, only a few degrees more and Mr. Jung’s back will be fully turned. You don’t know why the sight of Jaehyun’s honey, curly hair is your undoing, but maybe because it’s a symbol of curtain down on this wretched finale.</p><p class="p1">Your eyelids stitch close for only a second - sending the teardrop, no bigger than your tiny stellaria seed, careening down your cheek.</p><p class="p1">It has happened every time since you’ve been reunited, it would be a fitting end, to open your eyes and see that Jaehyun has looked back for the final time. But when you do so and see a face staring your way, it is not him who’s looked back.</p><p class="p1">It’s his father. And that means he saw all of it.</p><p class="p1">In a hysterical frenzy you have no chance of stopping, Mr. Jung lunges out of nowhere, sending the occupants of the room gasping in surprise, yourself included. You’ve anticipated he’s pounced in fury to hit his son square across the face. When there’s no smack of bone hitting bone, you peer past Kyungsoo’s frame blocking your vision and see Jaehyun and his father wrestling for his jacket. Jaehyun is physically bigger than the older man in every way, but the Vice Premier is possessed with a demon of determination to have the garment in his grasp. He literally rips the jacket sleeve’s seam apart when he pulls it out of Jaehyun’s hands, then he starts rooting through the pockets.</p><p class="p1">“Dad!” Jaehyun cries, trying to push past him to grab the blazer, “You can’t go through my things!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun's father nods at the guards that have gathered by the door and they form an actual human fortress between the two men. Jaehyun attempts to reach in between the blocky shoulders to grab at his stuff but is blocked from doing so by a guard's brusque shove of him away. VP Jung goes for his son’s phone first in the front right pocket, easy pickings, expecting to see some kind of photographic proof of what he’s imagining on the screen. But from your vantage point, the lock screen is nothing more than a black square, and he can’t go any further without a passcode.</p><p class="p1">“Jefferson, what is going on?” Premier Kim booms, but not even the severe question of his direct superior can stop Mr. Jung’s crazed search through his son’s personal effects.</p><p class="p1">The wallet comes out next, and it’s surprising that you’d let out a sigh of relief at that. But you know for sure that Jaehyun doesn’t keep that picture in his wallet anymore, he’d given it to you as a token of his affection that night in his kitchen. While it was too obvious of a memento to bring to the capital where you’d be caught, it’s surely placed upon his bedside table as a corny reminder, the kind of thing he would do.</p><p class="p1">True enough, Mr. Jung searches through the money pocket, the card slots, repeats it all three times, and doesn’t find anything else.</p><p class="p1">You think you’re out of the woods, he’s gone through both pockets and found nothing. But you’ve forgotten - something you should know quite well considering you’ve sewed many of these - that male jackets have a hidden pocket on the inside seam of their lapel. As soon as Mr. Jung’s fingers dip inside the opening, his face contorts into perplexity. You can’t remember if Jaehyun stuffed the pocket square, soiled with your blood, in the outside or inside breast pocket, maybe that’s what he’s found.</p><p class="p1">“No, don’t—,” Jaehyun tries to keep his father from extracting what he’s discovered, but he’s too slow.</p><p class="p1">When you see the folded square of white cotton, it shoots straight through you, the gravity of this discovery. Jaehyun hadn’t been keeping the storied photo in his wallet, or framed it in his home after you’d left it. He’s been keeping it in the breast pocket of his jackets, resting right over his heart in his chest when he wore it buttoned up.</p><p class="p1">He is such a lovesick idiot for this.</p><p class="p1">“W-what, what is this?” Mr. Jung stutters as he flips the photo back and forth in his hands, seeing your faces, then blank canvas, your faces, and nothing. He repeats himself, “Jeffrey, what is this?” You’ve only ever heard Jaehyun being referred to by his legal name once before — at the peak of his father’s threatened fury in that grainy video footage — which means you know exactly what is coming.</p><p class="p1">“Hand it over, let’s have a look,” Premier Kim orders, no longer willing to be in the dark about this. Mr. Jung hesitates when another pleading <em>Dad</em> comes tumbling from Jaehyun’s lips, begging him not to pass over the photo he’s kept a secret for years. But the older man’s face hardens into stoniness and he wordlessly hands it off to his superior.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo, Taeyeon, and Siwon all crowd around the head of state as he holds the picture aloft. You know exactly what they’re seeing — your paired, sweet smiles, the teenage awkwardness manifesting in the inches of space you dared not to cross back then, the fuzz of blonde hair in the corner from where Mark almost got in the frame. Your disappearing final chance at exoneration is in this, that you could pass this off as a picture of old friends and nothing more.</p><p class="p1">In fact, Premier Kim almost does the work for you. In a surprise reaction, he smiles fondly, before turning to his compatriot and asking, “Oh, this is a such a delightful photo, is it not, Jefferson?” Lost in wistful reminiscing, he turns over to you and says, “As I recall, the pair of you used to seem close whenever I’d visit. This must’ve been taken when you were what? Eighteen?”</p><p class="p1">You’re hearing the ringing unspoken comment, <em>there’s nothing here you should be suspicious of</em>, so you go along with it, “Yes, and Mr. Jung was nineteen.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s just a photo,” Premier Kim shrugs it off as he hands the picture back to his friend, amiable about the situation, as he sees to have been about you in your time here.“I leave things in my jacket pockets all the time. When was the last time you wore this one, boy?”</p><p class="p1">Perfect setup for the game winning final lie, all Jaehyun needs to say is that he hasn’t worn this suit jacket since college and it will all make sense. The photo would be nothing more than a memento stuffed away for years that he’d accidentally rediscovered at the worst possible time.</p><p class="p1">“Did it already blossom?”</p><p class="p1">You tear your eyes away from Premier Kim at the lethal sound of Mr. Jung’s follow up question. The square of white cotton has expanded its borders in his hold this time around. You realize it’s because Jaehyun had folded his crudely sewn fabric frame back so that he could fit the photo inside the small pocket. All the officials had been looking before was the glossy printer paper. They reconvene to take a second look at it, and they’re seeing all of the wondrous context now, one sewn, square house in each corner, a tiny bunch of happy white flowers, and golden sunshine of a different one.</p><p class="p1">“Did your flower already blossom,” he repeats, and you nearly scream when the picture crumples in his angry closed fist. His hand shakes, and though you know every inch of him must be made of rage right now, his voice comes out eerily calm when he says, “It’s a picture of you two, with two houses, and two flowers. Did your flower blossom, Jeffrey?”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n,” Kyungsoo breathes out when he takes his turn to look.</p><p class="p1">His eyes immediately shoot to you as he contemplates the implications of it all, hoping you’ll give him some denial of his theory. He already has the knowledge you and Jaehyun were friends once, and you have no idea what, if anything, Baekhyun has told him, because you're convinced that the singer knows too. But you can't imagine it will be hard for him to figure this out. He finally has all the evidence presented right in front of him.</p><p class="p1">You don’t think Kyungsoo has truly registered the scene until now and he's begun to soak in the image of you in this beautiful gown you hate, spun onto you like the forthcoming first snow of winter. You realize now he’s the one who asked for it to be this way, who ensured you got the high back and the covered sleeves and the flowered recall to home, thinking this would be exactly what you wanted. But he’s also cursed with the image of Jaehyun standing tall in the middle of it all, the glistening silk of his shirt proudly shining even in the dull light, the sparkling gold threads sewn up into the oak tree an illustrious call to your long-held passion. </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I didn’t make that many shirts for people. // Just for the people you love most, right?</em>
</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun’s taunting words echo in your ears as you take the time to stare back at Kyungsoo in his plain white suit, white shirt, white shoes, a sharply directed contrast to Jaehyun’s dark finery. He’s as solemnly serious as ever, not giving away any discernible emotion on his face, but there’s a peek of sunshine yellow in the corner of his own jacket pocket.</p><p class="p1">It’s <em>Luna’s </em>pocket square, one that you made him. You glance over to where he’s discarded the stolen flowers you were about to deceive everyone with. You recognize the pink-purple cyclamen from when you’d idly looked it up one day after he told you. Next to those, though, are a bunch of tiny white rabelera. Perfect, ironic, coincidence, considering they're the closest cousin to your stellaria. You doubt the Pandora flower delivery would go through the grass and pluck the real thing out, even if you'd asked. They may as well have been the actual thing.</p><p class="p1">“Answer the question, boy,” Premier Kim commands, tone not quite as friendly as it has been only moments ago.</p><p class="p1">“Father, stop,” Kyungsoo interjects, just as Mr. Jung finally is self-consumed in his anger and bellows, “Answer it!” right in Jaehyun’s face.</p><p class="p1">The accompanying, scared tear that slides down your face is enough to say it all, but Jaehyun’s hushed baritone rockets the room into stillness, “Yes, our flowers have already blossomed.”</p><p class="p1">It’s already established he’s a fool, but you’re just as foolish. At the unburdening reveal of your long-held, true feelings, your eyes meet across the room, and both of you smile. Not a grin, not a beam, just a private, subdued, slight smile, <em>I love you, and you love me.</em></p><p class="p1">This time when Mr. Jung lunges, you know he’s prepared for violence; the guards barely get in his way in time, his cocked fist misses Jaehyun’s face by mere centimeters. He struggles against their iron grip to punish his son physically, his verbal assault not enough, “I knew it! This is the same stupid thing as your birthday, Jeffrey, I thought we talked about this!”</p><p class="p1">“And I said you could fucking disown me,” Jaehyun replies, simple, unfazed. The statement clues you into what that horrible fight his mother had told you about entailed, why he’d asked to forgo the lion tie for another for your wedding. He’d been ready to sever himself out of his bloodline for you. You have to do something on his behalf.</p><p class="p1">You will use the same soft voice you do when talking to Michael, when laughing with your father. Only this time, it's a daughter begging her father-in-law to understand that there has never been an outside agenda other than loving his son. There are a thousand different instances you could tell him about - mistletoe, the greenhouse, beers and baseball, a peach dress. But it’s a testament to how much you love Jaehyun that you’re willing to return right back to the worst day of your life to protect him.</p><p class="p1">“Mr. Jung, please,” you beseech him to listen to you, your carved out pain, as you confess, “the boy from home, the boy I wanted to m—, that I <em>did</em> marry, is your son.”</p><p class="p1">He’s seen it, they’ve all seen it. The deluge of tears from your eyes dripped across Jeno’s forehead, your blood and his mixed in a palette of devastation, his childlike plea for you to keep speaking so he could let his mind wander away from the beckoning pull of the afterlife. But, much like you’d done so yourself, the way they’re staring at you right now implies that they had assumed this person was imaginary. Taeyeon has an obvious look of shock on her features, a departure from her usual serenity, Siwon has gone green, coming across like he might faint with the idea.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s father has tears in his eyes. They’re dangerous though, because you can’t pick apart if they’re tears of surprising joy or expected outrage.</p><p class="p1">“You were going to embarrass my family in front of the entire nation.” </p><p class="p1">It’s Premier Kim who breaks the silence, not Jaehyun’s father. The head of the nation goes in a one-eighty turn from supportive to deadly, his handsome face etched with the most burgeoning displeasure you’ve seen on a person before.</p><p class="p1">“No!” you immediately deny. “No, no, I never wanted to embarrass you, Kyungsoo knows.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve said it in the mild hope that he’ll corroborate your story, know just how keenly the idea of the boy from home has gripped you, how you agreed on the outlandish plan with the flowers.</p><p class="p1">But Kyungsoo, oh, the displeased steel of his jaw tells you everything you need to know that you’ve lost any hope of gathering him up as an ally. He’s revising all of your history in his mind, you know he is, <em>I’m in a situation where I can never actually make it happen. </em>The pulsating back and forth between the two houses on the hill he could never understand, you saying that the boy from home had already had a blossom ceremony. Exactly why you kept going along with it when he’d called Jaehyun an asshole - because he’d broken your heart back then, to what you figured was an irreparable point of damage. The painstaking way you’d loop back to your broken whispers to Jeno over and over, the one lingering slip of grief that continued to choke you.</p><p class="p1">You’ve used all of him up, selfishly and without regard. But somehow Kyungsoo finds it within himself to begin to agree, “It’s true, she—,”</p><p class="p1">“Shut up!” Premier Kim roars, at the full mast of his authority now as he advances on you, incensed beyond saving, “You knew my son wouldn’t make your flower blossom, you were ready to let our region’s storied tradition be mocked by the entire nation!”</p><p class="p1">“That wasn’t what I was trying to do, I—,”</p><p class="p1">In a fluid motion he turns to address his staff, unmoving with power, “Get rid of the cameras, send everyone home. Not a single word of this gets out to the media. Imply that they changed their minds and it was something they wanted to do privately. Do it. Now.” Okay, maybe he’s being reasonable about this, wants to have a frank discussion about everything that’s happened. In the broad scheme of things, you’ve known him to be level-headed. If you can just explain that you love his son, really, you do, but you hate to say that there’s also a bruising difference between a love and a true love. Will he understand?</p><p class="p1">Then, you hear, “Keep her in here, we’ll deal with her when it’s time.”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes slam shut as your hand flies to the nearest post of your bed to steady yourself from collapse. No, not this, this is the Pandora Building all over again, you can’t be held like this.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s <em>Father</em>, <em>no, </em>is drowned out by Jaehyun’s urgent defense, “No, Premier Kim, sir, it was all me, it was all my fault.”</p><p class="p1">The darkness behind your closed eyes is the same eerie blackness that had consumed the space of the attic, the cold air blasting through the glass of the window, blood on your hands, nausea in waves spilling from the depth of your chest. Your crime here is naiveté, is utter foolishness punishable as if it’s a felony? Okay, you lied, you lied about everything, but they were necessary lies. They were absolutely essential to your survival. You can't be punished for trying to survive.</p><p class="p1">“Take everything of hers,” he orders, you can hear it above all the commotion in the room, “take it all out, guards at the door and the window all hours of the day.”</p><p class="p1">Through the slip of space you allow between your lids, you see the guards setting off into action at the order from the nation’s head - rooting through your stuff, snatching the laptop, tearing the TV off the wall, leaving not an item unturned. You should’ve never come here. You should’ve stayed in Tactix the second you were reunited with your parents, you should’ve never done any of this with Kyungsoo, should’ve never returned to Jaehyun, everyone would be so much better off.</p><p class="p1">“Please, please don’t, sir,” Jaehyun’s begging, you think it’s him at least, you can’t quite make out much of anything. “Don’t, please!”</p><p class="p1">There’s no roar to fight left in your body. You don’t know what to do. You’re still only a girl, you still feel like that seventeen year old deposited into a life she had no idea how to handle.</p><p class="p1">“Very unbecoming of a Neozone woman, to act in this manner,” Premier Kim sneers at you. Though you still have your eyes closed, you’re the only person he could be talking to, “I am quite disappointed, I expected better from you. But I suppose that’s what happens when they have Elyxion in them.”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes fly open to see the four adults chuckling darkly, like he’s just told the most hilarious joke, that somehow being from the other region has deemed you to act like a savage.</p><p class="p1">It’s not a crime to be from Elyxion. Your father had the fortitude to not need a flower to convince him of his destiny, had given up everything for a Tactix girl that he loved. He is a better man than all of them. Michael had done the same, and he is the best person you know. </p><p class="p1">“Watch your fucking mouth—,” Jaehyun spits, and at his display of defiance, all hell breaks loose.</p><p class="p1">His father’s laughter dies in his throat, and he charges in a nanosecond, fist crashing down onto the smooth skin of Jaehyun’s cheek, a terrible yelp of pain volcanoing out of him at the blow. You blink and find a guard’s hand wrapped around your bicep as you realize you’ve leapt to try and come in between the men, a full ten feet away from where you were standing by your bed. A guard is taking Premier Kim and Kyungsoo out of the room, thinking they are directly under threat, and Taeyeon and Siwon scurry away behind them in fear. Jaehyun whimpers as his father sharply tugs at his hair to get him to stand upright from where he’s fallen, a pair of guards grabbing him with abandon to keep him under control.</p><p class="p1">“Jae!” you shriek, unwavering hold of the guard crushing your arm as you fight to free yourself, “Jae!”</p><p class="p1">He struggles to look, you catch one bob of his curly hair, but there’s no final glance, not with the guard blocking him off as they take him away from you. The soldier by you has left full indents of his gloves in your skin, unwilling to let you go until he hears the outer doors of the living quarters shut. He struggles to dodge your scratching blows like you’re a rabid dog, fingers clawing at him to let you free. He deposits you into a chair he blockades with the other furniture, then goes sprinting from the room as you jump over the ottoman to immediately chase after him.</p><p class="p1">Your hand slams across the wood of the door just as the lock clicks into place. You step back in frustration, chest heaving and tears leaking from your eyes as a typhoon of pain maroons itself around that same damn spot on your hand, doomed to perpetual injury at this point.You’re a prisoner again.</p><p class="p1">You’re here alone, with nothing more than an aching heart and a handprint of blood on your door. And Jaehyun is gone.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>HERE WE GO GUYS, THE BEGINNING OF THE END I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANKS FOR READING!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. tanacetum cinerariifolium</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You almost wish they’d taken you away, they’d jailed you or sent you to the gallows right then. That way you’d receive your immediate punishment, and wouldn’t languish under the hand of fear, waiting for your comeuppance. Because each time the earliest dregs of sunlight slither through your curtains, you’re forced to contemplate if that will be the last you ever see of them.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>lots of plot unfolding so:</p><p>-go back to chapter 1 if you need a refresher on dorado history<br/>-map of dorado: ibb.co/S5VfGDD</p><p>also sorry if the formatting is a little screwy i'm having a hard time making all the quotes even. just bear with me lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Morning check, ma’am.”</p><p class="p1">You’re already awake, you’ve been awake since the first awful streams of sunlight slipped through your curtains, but you only bury your head further in the pillow at the sound. You can’t take another day of this, they’re pushing you to the brink, off the edge into crazed existence with no chance of return. By the rise and fall of the sun, you can hazard a guess that you’ve been in this room for five days, but that’s definitely not for sure. After all, they’ve left you with no means to tell time beyond this neolithic method.</p><p class="p1">A rough hand grasps at your shoulder to tug you up from where you’re lying face down, holding you in place when you start to struggle to return to your slumbering position. Your covers are yanked off of you, and that’s what elicits the first crack of your dry throat, “No, stop, please.”</p><p class="p1">The grasp on you tightens, a recent development, and the voice of whatever guard is in your room becomes more forceful, “You must confirm to the Premier’s office that you are functioning within the bounds of normal sanity.”</p><p class="p1">You still have your eyes closed, letting the sensation in your neck waste away as the soldier restrains you from movement. Lucky for him that you’re too exhausted to fight back today.</p><p class="p1">“Confirmed,” you mumble.</p><p class="p1">Satisfied and cautious all at once, he lets go of you and then you hear him practically sprinting through the space of your room in his haste to exit. You can’t blame him, taking into account what happened yesterday, or maybe the day before. They’d had to amend the ritual question from, <em>You must confirm to the Premier’s office that you remain unwilling to cooperate,</em> into the new query, which worked to confirm the status of your mental state. But could any of this be considered functionally sane, though? Existing in this purgatory they’ve left you to rot in?</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“No, I don’t want to serve her her lunch!” “You’re shit out of luck, dude, you got it!” “You were holding the straws unfairly, I want a rematch!”</em>
</p><p class="p1">There’s another way you’re grasping onto the strands of a normal circadian rhythm. That is to strain to hear the very loud, very uncouth conversations the coming and going guards have outside your door, as if they’ve forgotten there’s an actual person inside and not some kind of zoo animal. Guard number one, who has the deep rasp of a two pack a day smoker, has apparently been cheating on his girlfriend for several months. Guard number two, who can’t make it through two sentences without giggling nervously, has spent this whole time encouraging his buddy to cheat. And guard three, who you haven’t heard the name of but is arguably the worst of the bunch, spends the whole time shit talking you. <em>Elyxion bitch, slut queen, treasonous whore</em>, it’s really so pleasant to overhear, yet another stark reminder of the misogyny and prejudice that seems to run rampant in the capital.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What’s going on here?” That stern voice can only be one of the commanding officers, as he comes by once a day to check that the Premier’s prime capture hasn’t gone on another rampage. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s3">“Apologies, sir.”</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s3">“Explain yourself, cadet.”</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s3">“Sir, we are drawing lots to see who takes the afternoon watch today,” guard number one states with no hesitation, or any semblance of remorse. “The last two lunch checks, she ended up scratching my cornea and burning him with her soup! We had to start physically restraining her to get her to stop.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">“I’ll pretend I didn’t see this, then,” you can practically see the grimace that shoots through the Commander’s tone. “Continue on.”</p><p class="p1">Right, right, the reason why they’d been so domineering with you as of late. The first day after they’d taken Jaehyun away, you’d spent the whole day a shriveled mess in the middle of your bed, unable to do anything but sob and itch to reopen the wound on your hand that’d crusted over, the handprint on your door taunting you.</p><p class="p1">But you were never raised to be the kind of woman to take something like this lying down, literally or metaphorically. You couldn’t just sit here, helpless, you needed to do something to get out of this place. So when your hand had healed to the point that you felt steady enough to use it again, it’d been easy enough to lie in wait until guard number one, had come to check in for the evening. The moment he’d reached for your arm under the comforter, you’d clawed at his face until he had to yell for help, and the other two came to restrain you, giving you no means of escape.</p><p class="p1">They didn’t learn their lesson right away, though, and then next afternoon when guard two had brought your prepared lunch into the room, you were ready once again. When the tray was within arm’s reach you slapped it out of his hands, sending the hot soup flying all over his face and him reeling in pain. But that time, you’d only made it one step out the door before the guards were tackling you into submission. They finally caught on, and began to treat you as a criminal they should forcefully hinder.</p><p class="p1">Now, you’re left to exist in a state of total ignorance. They’ve taken everything from you, your bags, your clothes outside of the sweats you rotate through. You don’t even have your wallet anymore, which means that precious leaf ring is probably gone forever.</p><p class="p1">There is no means for you to find out anything about Michael. You’d already been clinging onto your visits in the shadows and gleaning what you could from the propaganda-esque news reports. Now you have all your senses snuffed out. He could still be in that apartment, he could be on trial now, he could be wasting away like you are, he could be dead and you would have no clue at all.</p><p class="p1">You doubt you’ll ever get the opportunity to apologize to Kyungsoo, to explain that it was never personal with him, not a single action you’d taken had the deliberate intention of hurting him. He’d been slammed back with full devastation at the reveal of your blossomed flower, a reaction you can’t fault him for at all. But, again, you possess no capability to determine if that had turned him towards darkness. If he was already slipping under the Premier’s hand before this, towards an existence that erased everything you’d ever cherished in him, it might be far too late for him now.</p><p class="p1">And of course, how could you forget the final image of Jaehyun that’s branded into each blink you take, eye purpling under the devastating blow cast upon him by his own father.</p><p class="p1">You desperately want to call anyone and everyone, to cry to your mother, to hear John’s voice again, to beg Mark to come and save you, but you can’t. If you can hear the guards outside your door this plainly, they’d hear anything in return. You know that they hadn’t checked in the tank of the toilet, the plastic bag with your burner phone is still there. But you won’t even dare to turn on the Nokia out of fear that the loading ringtone will be as sonorous as an explosion.</p><p class="p1">You almost wish they’d taken you away, they’d jailed you or sent you to the gallows right then. That way you’d receive your immediate punishment, and wouldn’t languish under the hand of fear, waiting for your comeuppance. Because each time the earliest dregs of sunlight slither through your curtains, you’re forced to contemplate if that will be the last you ever see of them.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Another two rises and falls of the sun pass, and you hear the very standard, very professional, “Morning check, ma’am.”</p><p class="p1">“Go away,” you grumble, cocooning yourself into your sheets as you prepare to be manhandled for yet another day.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n.”</p><p class="p1">You haven’t heard your name in so long, you’d nearly forgotten the defining set of syllables looped through your existence. At the familiar address, you shoot upright amongst your pillows to see Ten dropping off his bag on top of the desk in the corner. You huddle into your headboard, arms crossed over you in protection, the dread creeping through each bit of you as you plead, “No, no, don’t come near me.”</p><p class="p1">He was your… friend? At once point, but after all this mistreatment, you can’t see him as anything other than one of <em>them.</em></p><p class="p1">Ten glances back to the door, to make sure that no one has followed him in, and he whispers, “I told you, I have a stake in this, too. I’m not selling out when my parents and siblings are on the line. I’ll be posted to you daily now.”</p><p class="p1">“You are literally a guard for the Security Minister’s Special Forces,” you retort, still unconvinced even at the mention of his Elyxion family that it’s clear he loves. You’ve learned the hard way that you can’t trust anyone here.</p><p class="p1">Ten sits at the foot of your bed, hands raised in defense, before he explains, “The Security Minister wasn’t pleased to hear the cadets were turning you into a Vegas betting game. Guess who got rewarded for tattling?”</p><p class="p1">But you’re swimming in trepidation, anticipating when he’ll put aside the act and beat you into submission. You grab a pillow to hold to your torso, as if it’ll give you some kind of armor, and you slowly try to untangle this, “They trust you, which means I’m somehow supposed to.”</p><p class="p1">Ten makes a sudden move and you physically cower away from him, head tucking into your shoulder as your eyes slam shut in fear. But the move wasn’t to attack you. Instead, his hand gently finds yours, and gives it a squeeze, before you feel a slip of fabric being passed into your hold.</p><p class="p1">Your thumb brushes over a familiar bump of embroidery, and you’re driven off an emotional cliff when you see the scrap of white cotton that had been pinned onto your refrigerator, your mother’s version of the smiling strawberry you’d sewn upon Jeno’s last shirt. But there isn’t just that swirl of red - upon second glance there’s another addition added to it, a wondrous little sight you hadn’t been expecting. A cartoon bee in your mother’s precise stitching has made its landing onto the surface of the strawberry.</p><p class="p1">“Mark…” you breathe out, pressing the square right into the breadth of your chest, where your heart has now come alight. “Mark’s here?”</p><p class="p1">When your hand strangles itself around his in anticipation, Ten’s lip quirks in a smile, “Yeah, I still had his old number. I texted him right away. He’s safe, Michael’s safe. Vice Premier’s son is MIA.”</p><p class="p1">The relief that you feel at even the vaguest hints that Mark and his father are unharmed is exhaustively extinguished by Ten's lack of knowledge on Jaehyun’s whereabouts. You crush the embroidery to you even tighter, the strands of thread biting at your skin. He can’t be missing like this, he can’t. The last time someone went missing, the last time, that was Jeno.</p><p class="p1">“Ten,” you can only manage the harrowed whisper of his name. Jaehyun cannot be missing.</p><p class="p1">Ten clutches onto you, both hands working hard to steady out the trembling you hadn’t realized has started up. A leaf perched on a fallen branch from that steady tree, you quake in his hold, wishing you were close enough to fold into his arms, complete and boneless. A bit reluctant after seeing you fall apart like this, he tiptoes on with the rest of his information, “I don’t know if they’re keeping him somewhere that’s not here or if he’s gone—,”</p><p class="p1">There’s a burst of noise from outside the wall, the ruckus of a group of men entering the apartment, a smoker’s voice and some high pitched giggling. Ten quickly scrambles to standing, using his loudest, fakest, most <em>I’m in control of things </em>voice to hide his tracks, “You must confirm to the Premier’s office that you are functioning within the bounds of normal sanity.”</p><p class="p1">His apologetic expression conveys his silent regret for what he has to do. You play your part, by nodding your head in appreciation and parroting, “Confirmed.”</p><p class="p1">He turns on his heel, to take his place amongst the spineless, and the action draws your attention to a black shadow on your desk.</p><p class="p1">“Mr. Leechaiyapornkul, you forgot your—,” you start, racing to pick up the bag and give it to him before he leaves, before you’re somehow blamed for him forgetting it here. But the lock clicks closed behind him, leaving it trapped in here with you.</p><p class="p1">The barest corner of the big side pocket is unzipped, and the strip of turquoise you see certainly isn’t part of the bag’s makeup. You push the flap open slightly, and the turquoise sliver reveals itself to be a Neozone University sticker, resting in the top left corner of a laptop’s lid, nestled right next to a decal of the Bats logo.</p><p class="p1">It’s your real computer. Brought all the way to Pandora by Mark, you’re sure.</p><p class="p1">You keep the smiling strawberry tucked into your hand as you pluck out the computer and retreat into the bathroom, behind one more layer of privacy. You deftly retrieve your phone from its hiding place in the tank, discarding the bag you keep it in. You stuff the phone between your thighs and under a towel as you press the button to turn it on, and thankfully, there’s no action from the outside at the muffled tone of the loading screen. As you set up your computer on the sink counter, you look to that slip of red sewing to give you strength — it’ll be different this time. This strawberry means they’ll be with you always, if you can hold onto it, not let it be ruined, you’ll make it home safely.</p><p class="p1">Your computer loads straight to your email out of habit, you’re about to close out of it to storm through the latest news headlines, when the most recent message alert in your inbox snares all your attention.<br/><br/></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <b>shp0812@gmail.com - A note from the Parks</b>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">Oh, holy shit, you had completely forgotten about your run in with Mr. and Mrs. Park the day before the disaster of a blossom ceremony. They were supposed to have given you an answer on whether or not they wanted to attend, but your behavior closed the door on that happening. You set out straight away to write an apology, regardless of their decision, because surely they heard the news of what went on. You don’t even get a word out on the screen though, because you see what the contents of his message actually say,<br/><br/></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <b>Hello, y/n,</b>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <b>It was very pleasant running into you the other day, both my wife and I would again like to express that we are very happy that you and Kyungie have found each other. That being said, we will have to decline your offer to attend the festivities tomorrow, as we feel this is a private tradition that you two, as Neozone citizens, should participate in on your own. But we would absolutely love to be included on your wedding day, please keep us informed as to when it is. Lastly, we briefly discussed our daughter’s recent publication, and I have attached a pdf of it below. I hope you enjoy!</b>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <b>Sincerely,</b>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <b>Soohyun Park</b>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">You choose to completely bypass the emotional turmoil the mention of the blossom ceremony stirs up in you and instead go right to opening the attachment. The formal looking document loads up on the screen, and you sit back against the toilet seat to soak in the strength of the title, <em>Taeyong Lee: An Examination of His Life and Legacy.</em></p><p class="p1">You have no idea what awaits you, so you dive straight in.</p><p class="p1">Much of the introduction is re-hashing information that is public knowledge, that Taeyong was from Zero Mile, that he originally intended to be a dance teacher. But his father was a General who was killed in battle during the Growl Conflict, right in front of his son’s eyes, and that changed the course of his life forever.</p><p class="p1">Michael had already told you most of the rest, though you suppose for the average reader it’s probably of note. Taeyong had only fought under the cover of moonlight, he did not engage in a single battle during the day, as swift and as silent as a shadow cat would move in an alley. He’d only needed one top general and forty men to complete his mission, didn’t have a single tank or heavy artillery to match the firepower Elyxion’s military had at the time. But he’d completely devastated the region on behalf of his own, reclaiming territories and cities - like his hometown Zero Mile, like the westernmost flowered lands of Neozone.<br/><br/></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>A devout follower of Zero Mile’s old Zodiac religion, Lee often turned to their ancient ritualistic practices to determine which days were advantageous for him to act. Consulting a soothsayer he kept close to his side, and using the blood from those passed on in battle, he would analyze moon patterns and luck of the dates to determine when and where he would have strategic influence. He would, of course, discuss with his military personnel, but much of his decision making was guided by these principles.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">That one paragraph is about to twist you up from the inside out. Because that sounds like Taeyeon, it sounds just like her, like the story Mrs. Lee told you in the van home from the mansion. But you’re completely blown apart by the next set of sentences you read,<br/><br/><em>After the war came to its conclusion, and he left the establishment of this nation’s current iteration of government to those, quote, “as skilled in politics as I am in war,” Lee chose to let his life fade into the clouds of obscurity. He was quite convinced of the notion that Elyxion and Neozone could indeed exist in peaceful harmony in the years to come.</em></p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">That is, no exaggeration, the most shocking thing you’ve ever read. Taeyong Lee, the quintessential icon of Neozone history, wanted the nation to exist in peace? That is crazy talk. But no, you’ve heard differently once before. Here come all the details that Baekhyun had filled in for you, from his <em>Elyxion</em> school’s history classes, details that no one in Neozone would care to know.<br/><br/></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Lee held much regret that he severed families apart in an effort to to keep his safe, had orphaned kids and destroyed cities all to return his homeland to its original strength. So, with his wife — a woman from his hometown of Zero Mile — and young daughter, Lee made the decision to return straight to the mouth of suffering. Though our team has done extensive searching for more details behind the leader's family, almost all records of Lee's wife, daughter, and ancestors beyond that have been deliberately sealed from public knowledge, perhaps as a result from the lifetime of dangers they faced. </em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>What we do know, however, is that they bought a simple cottage on the mouth of Ninth Cloud Lake, on the outskirts of Elyxion’s capital, and tried to make their life’s amends. </em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>The city folk quickly heard the rumor that Lee had taken up residence in their region, and the Lee family endured months of violent harassment from those who rightfully felt like he had no business living in close proximity to them. But the lake country’s dwellers saw it differently, they saw the quiet man who got up and walked alone with his fluffy rescue pup to the market, so his wife and daughter wouldn’t have to. They received the blessing of the fortune he had amassed after the war, when he put it directly into building schools for the children of the area, into construction efforts to fix destroyed homes and businesses. They were able to laugh along when Lee would stop on the streets and show off his old dance moves for a citizen who had heard about his past. His closest friend, Michael Lee II, former General of Neozone and grandfather of current Vice Premier Michael Lee IV, was Taeyong's proxy to his fortune left back in Neozone. Lee II would send money and supplies as requested, and did not ever divulge to the other leaders of Neozone where his comrade had departed to.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>By the time Lee braved a trip into the capital to open an orphanage specifically for those victims of his actions, Elyxion citizens lined up en masse to catch a glimpse of who they once viewed as the ultimate villain. While they didn’t accept him with open arms, they were able to co-exist in peace. For the rest of his life Lee went back and forth from his cottage to the various cities in the region, always by himself, always with few words to say, and always with the intention to help. </em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Though his personal bridges with the Elyxion people were rebuilt by his own merit, Lee was never able to see his dream of the inter-regional divide erased during his lifetime. Taeyong Lee held onto his regret until his final moments. An oral recollection from the physician sat outside the room as he passed confirms that the storied leader’s final words were as follows, dictated to his wife, </em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>“My love, I will never lose the hope that our proud children will one day reconcile with the noble descendants of this region we’ve grown to call home. They must undo the suffering I brought upon this nation.”</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">You’re not sure how to react about any of this.</p><p class="p1">This feels like the most sobering turn through history you could’ve ever taken, and Luna’s work is absolutely tremendous on it.She’s humanized this elusive legend, brought forth all of the wisps of information that actually matter about him as a person. Not just how many kills he had, or how much land he had savaged. Of course, there’s the implicit understanding that you can’t glorify all war dogs like this, but the way she’s academically yet artistically arranged the moments of his life is a commentary on how legacy is awash in nuance, how a person’s motivations aren’t always black and white. Taeyong went to war because his father was killed in the previous one, because his wife and his daughter were in danger if he didn’t. But he also caused much suffering in turn. It’s give and take.</p><p class="p1">A flicker of color by the bold of the subject line catches your eye, grey turning to green, indicating that Soohyun has just come online.Without much hesitation, you click on his contact and decide to send him a more personal message, instead of a closed off email.<br/><br/></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[9:30 am] <strong>you:</strong> Hello, Mr. Park?<br/>[9:32 am] <strong>shp0812:</strong> Ah, this is y/n, right? Good to hear from you!<br/>[9:34 am] <strong>you:</strong> I just finished Luna’s paper, I read it in one go without putting it down<br/>[9:34 am] <strong>you:</strong> wanted to say that it was truly well done, I’m so in awe of her and her work</p>
</blockquote><p class="p9">It feels odd, yet not, to praise her in this way. You feel a kindred spirit towards the woman, knowing that if she had been alive - a quite horrible stipulation - you would’ve wanted to be friends with her. Knowing that if she was around to celebrate this momentous achievement with her fiancé, he would’ve been beside himself with joy, would’ve thrown a party decked to the nines, would’ve made her a blueberry pie in congratulations.<br/><br/></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p9">[9:37 am] <strong>shp0812:</strong> It’s a great one, isn’t it? We’re going to get the cover framed for the living room<br/>[9:37 am] <strong>you:</strong> Her colleagues must be so proud of it<br/>[9:41 am] <strong>shp0812:</strong> Oh, they certainly are. Some probably are seething with jealousy.<br/>[9:41 am] <strong>shp0812:</strong> L O L! Is that what you kids use to say laughing nowadays?<br/>[9:42 am] <strong>you:</strong> Jealousy?</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"><br/>The chat box flickers with the notification that he’s typing. Jealousy? Why would Luna’s colleagues have any reason to be jealous, considering how well liked she seemed to be? Was that the professional tension of being in academia?</p><p class="p1">There’s a ping of a response, but you don’t have a chance to read it, because the screen of the Nokia lights up in a call, like it’s been waiting for this moment to reunite with you. You don’t recognize the number, save for the Neozone area code, but very few people have access to this line. Whoever’s calling has to have a reason. Tossing your computer back onto the counter, you sink down on the closed lid of the toilet, apparently the place to receive important calls now, and pitch your tone into a barely audible decibel, “Hello?”</p><p class="p1">“May I speak to y/f/n y/l/n, please?”</p><p class="p1">“This is she?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh great, wasn’t sure if I had the wrong number. This is Dr. Shon from Neozone Community.” You finally recognize the soft-spoken yet confident voice of Wendy, the surgeon that’d saved your friend. “I called the number you gave me yesterday, but it didn’t go through, so I called your husband instead and he said I should try this one.”</p><p class="p1">You, your— she did what? She called <em>your</em> <em>husband? </em></p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, you called w-who?” you trip over your words, not grasping what she’s said at all.</p><p class="p1">Wendy pauses, like she hadn’t been expecting that to be your first question, then answers, “Ah, what was his name? Right. Mr. Jung…. First name, Jae something? One of Mr. Suh’s comrades? I did not realize that you were married at the time we met.”</p><p class="p1">At the sound of that one syllable, you sit up so quickly your shoulder knocks your computer into the basin of your sink. This is a coincidental confirmation of his safety - if Wendy had spoken to him on his usual number as recently as yesterday, that meant he’d been in some capacity to answer his old phone. He may not be in the city any longer, but at least it’s enough to assume he’s not kidnapped.</p><p class="p1">What did he do when she called? Did he bolt up in bed, stare out into the fading caress of afternoon sun and think of you, how he might never look upon your face again? A cacophonous sigh bellows out of your chest, taking a shred of your heart as it comes.</p><p class="p1">“Are you okay? I can’t quite hear you,” Wendy asks, after she mistakes your harsh exhale for an unintelligible response.</p><p class="p1">You need to have this conversation as normally as possible. If you’re talking to her under duress, you’re more likely to have a surprise emotion reaction that will give you away. You scoop up your computer and make your way into the shower, sitting down on the cold tile floor and closing the glass door behind you, a final layer of muffled protection you can add.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry, is that better?” you ask her in your normal tone of voice, bracing yourself for them to come slamming through the door any second. But there’s no accompanying burst of sound from the guards as they hear your new conversation.</p><p class="p1">“Much,” Wendy confirms, oblivious to what’s going on on your end as she moves along, “first, I wanted to apologize and say that I’m sorry it took this long for your results to come back. Since you’re not my official patient, your sample got backlogged in the lab amidst everything else.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s totally fine, to be honest, I forgot all about this.” A sort-of lie, because of course the memory of your scar always lingers - you’d had the fight with Jennie, had darkly contemplated cutting your beautiful white gown all apart. But you’d forgotten you’d ever attempted to seek help about it in the first place.</p><p class="p1">Wendy chuckles, then admits, “Well, to be honest, so did I. But Mr. Suh came to the hospital for physical therapy yesterday and that made me think of you, so I got the results expedited.” Another mention of Mr. Suh, huh? You idly wish you were her friend, to ask her what that was about.</p><p class="p1">“Anyways, from what I could see, there were no obvious irregularities in your system that tests could pick up. No lead or asbestos, no lingering infection or reaction from the stitches they’d used to close you up, which is good. It pretty much read like your average piece of scar tissue.” You suppose this should be a good thing, that your recovery hadn’t been botched by incompetent surgeons, or worse, sabotaged in some way. However, it feels more disappointing than you’d expected, dashing away the hope that there might be a way to evaporate this blemish off you fully.</p><p class="p1">“Okay,” you respond, and you know she hears the defeat in that tiny word.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, I wish I had more answers for you. I could get you a consultation with one of my colleagues, he’s a very good plastic surgeon—,” Wendy halts in the middle of her profuse apology and solution brainstorming, muttering under her breath as she combs through your results. Finally, she asks, “Wait, do you have any allergies?”</p><p class="p1">You think for a second, a kind of funny self-reflection, then confirm, “No. No, I don’t think I do, I can eat everything, why?” Would an allergy have made the scar worse for some reason, is that what she’s saying?</p><p class="p1">“You did test positive for pyrethrin, which is a chemical sometimes used in insect repellents,” she reads off the information, then adds on a helpful tidbit, “it smells extremely and fakely floral, to attract bugs when there are otherwise no flowers around. Hospitals sometimes use these to keep linen closets sanitary.”</p><p class="p1">“Um, I don’t remember much from that time,” your hushed answer echoes off the glass walls of the shower. “I can’t recall what anything smelled like.”</p><p class="p1">You mean to say you don’t recall anything except the overpowering odor of rust, free flowing from the iron-filled, coppery blood spilt all over the floor of the Pandora Building. Lying in purgatory in the hospital, that was the only smell that you thought your nostrils would ever be able to pick up again.</p><p class="p1">She’s tactful enough to register that concealed meaning, and sidesteps it, “I understand, honestly it’s probably a long shot that you were exposed in your recovery. There are so many flowers in Neozone you could’ve been exposed to trace amounts of it that way, too.”</p><p class="p1">“You said it was an insect repellent, though…?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, pyrethrin is an ingredient used in insect repellents. But it’s a chemical that comes from processed chrysanthemums.”</p><p class="p1">You definitely heard that wrong. Need to clarify, stat.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry, what?”</p><p class="p1">“Pyrethrin is an organic compound that is derived from the chrysanthemum,” Wendy repeats, explaining it to you next in layman’s terms, “if you were allergic and exposed to either the processed version or the flower at home — even in passing — while the wound was still healing, it might’ve caused some kind of reaction. But you said you weren’t allergic, so I’d chalk this one up to a sensitive test and not much else.”</p><p class="p1">Only, you’d gotten the scar in the winter, when there were no chrysanthemums in bloom in Neozone. Which meant that not only were there no petals or pollen you could come in contact with, those who tended the fields had no use for insect repellent.Your fingernail bites into the skin of your thumb with a sudden deluge of anxiety, like you’d turned the shower on and gotten hit with a burst of panic instead.</p><p class="p1">“Got it,” you mumble. “Is there anything I need to know about this pyrethrin to be careful moving forward?”</p><p class="p1">“No, they generally are safely used, there’s not much to worry about. Obviously, in distilled form all chemicals can be toxic to humans on direct contact or if ingested, but I doubt you’re going to run into that problem,” Wendy thinks she’s reassuring you, but she’s only turning the shower handle to the max, the downpour of dread seeping into you, every molecule of your body bursting with unfounded terror at her words.</p><p class="p1">You can barely manage a coherent, “Right. Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">“Again, I am quite sorry that I wasn’t able to give you the answers that you wanted about your injury,” she apologizes again, thinking your sudden cold demeanor is again a consequence of her failing in your care. “Call me if you need any guidance with your medical plans, at any time.”</p><p class="p1">The Nokia clicks dead.</p><p class="p1">You should be getting up out of the shower, but you’re arrested by an invisible hand, choking you back into the tile as you let the nausea consume you. No, it’s not about the scar anymore, Wendy had cast the first stone into a churning sea threatening to drown everything. A last second lifeboat that snatches you away from the dooming tide appears in the form of the chat box on your computer dinging again, signaling a new message has come in. You don’t even pull up the device, you just squint across the way to read, too scared to move.<br/><br/></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p7">[10:22 am]<strong> shp0812:</strong> y/n, are you still there?</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">At another message from Luna’s father, you glance up to the answer that had come in response to your final question, <em>Jealousy?<br/><br/></em></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[9:47 am] <strong>shp0812:</strong> Of course, several of her older counterparts hated that Premier Park came to her for his visits</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">Your hands hit the keys in a mishmash of a hurried response as you flop on your stomach over the sink to hurry and respond before he logs off.<br/><br/></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[10:23 am] <strong>you:</strong> wgatsf<br/>[10:23 am] <strong>you:</strong> sorry, What?????<br/>[10:24 am] <strong>shp0812:</strong> Yes, Premier Park visited her several times at the university.<br/>[10:25 am] <strong>shp0812:</strong> Even though Lu wasn't supposed to because of her NDAs, she’d call us every time, so excited!<br/>[10:25 am] <strong>shp0812:</strong> He used to call her Pint Sized Park, because we had the same last name<br/>[10:25 am] <strong>shp0812:</strong> I think Kyungie might’ve even met him once or twice, too<br/>[10:26 am] <strong>shp0812:</strong> We have to run, but so glad to hear your blossom ceremony went well. Be happy, y/n.</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">As the icon by his name goes grey, your forehead mashes into the wall in your exhaustive collapse.</p><p class="p1">Hyungsik had mentioned once that the late Premier had spent a lot of time at XM with him while he was attending, that he had looked into reunification history once or twice. The knowledge and the lack of details he had got lost in all of the other conflict you were swept up in. But now you know all of it - that the professor he’d been meeting with was Luna, that Kyungsoo knew about all these meetings and never said a thing. Of course Premier Park had been visiting her, you’d read the line in her thesis yourself: <em>Lee was never able to see his dream of the inter-regional divide erased during his lifetime. </em></p><p class="p1">But that’s not what’s ricocheting around in your head right now. It’s a different phrase, paired with a different image. It’s Hyungsik’s deeply penetrating voice exclaiming, <em>Like any of us believed he died of natural causes as a perfectly healthy seventy five year old! </em></p><p class="p1">And a black tie, embroidered with Premier Kim’s chrysanthemum sigil.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The next morning is another day where you’re sat up in bed without a wink of sleep, consumed with thoughts you’re trying to dispel. Until Ten comes bursting in the room without preamble, forgoing the usual procedure to order, “The apartment is getting steam cleaned, we will need to move you temporarily to the guest house.”</p><p class="p1">He grabs your — his — bag, then picks your arm up like you’re another tote to be carried around and hauls you out of bed, barely giving you time to shuffle into your sneakers and go stumbling out the door behind him. Your legs feel like jelly with the lack of use, you’re like a baby lamb being pulled away from its sanctuary.</p><p class="p1">Perhaps you’ve been brainwashed into obedience, because you struggle against Ten’s grasp, and whine, “Wait, but I’m not supposed to leave.”</p><p class="p1">There’s still trust held between the two of you, and it’s not like any of the other guards you recognize are around right now. It’s just him leading you somewhere with determination. You’d heard nothing about being moved out of your enclosure, least of all to the <em>guest house</em>, where certain specific other people had been staying up until the confrontation. But that trust starts to spin away when he doesn’t take you down the main staircase of the residences, he pivots to a closed off corridor that has a set of emergency exit stairs at the very end. You’re suddenly terrified, that he’s taking you somewhere you shouldn’t be going, that you’re going to end up in a bloody heap without getting to see Mark one last time.</p><p class="p1">The hyperventilation explodes in your throat when Ten bumps the door open, leading into a concrete, soundproof capsule of space. Your fingers start to grapple at his wrist, fighting to push him off you, wanting to be under the protection of your covers. This is not the same thing as the train, not like being taken with Jeno, you have to trust Ten, he’s the only person you have left—,</p><p class="p1">“You’ve been giving people a lot of trouble here, huh, princess?”</p><p class="p1">One gust of the melodic voice is enough to fill your heart full to overflowing. You whirl around as Ten lets go of you, to see who’d been hidden inside the emergency exit doorway, “Yuta?”</p><p class="p1">An icy flash of familiar black eyes ribbons through your chest, and the regal tone pricks at your ears, “Newest member of the Pandora guard, at your service.”</p><p class="p1">It’s him, it’s your best friend, definitely him, his sharp jaw and his long silver hair peeking out from where it’s tucked under his black cap. He’s in all black, in fact, save for the patch of green upon his breast pocket, he’s wearing a uniform for the Security Ministry’s Special Forces, clearly provided to him by Ten. They’ve set all of this up for you. You’re in his arms in a flash, the two of you giggling like schoolchildren to be reunited like this. The rough material of his top is the smoothest cloud against your face as you burrow into his hold, this is a proxy to all of your deepest desires, Yuta’s hug is sending you right to the spot you want to be, sending you right to the feeling of home.</p><p class="p1">You pull back, finally of sound mind to realize he’s alone, something he hasn’t been at all as of late. You teasingly ask, “Where’s Seulgi?”</p><p class="p1">It was supposed to be a funny joke, something to draw out his twinkly laugh, hear it once again after your time apart. But he winces with discomfort when your fingers involuntarily squeeze against his shoulder, and it’s then you notice the one track line of raw flesh arrowing from his hairline down to his jaw, the unhealed concrete rash burned onto the slope of his elegant cheek. When Yuta’s face crumples, so does yours, because when you’ve seen that look on him, it only means that something terrible has happened.</p><p class="p1">“No,” you breathe, “No, Yu, no.” <em>No, Seulgi can’t be in danger, can she?</em></p><p class="p1">Yuta has known you for long enough to anticipate the question, immediately assuaging your worst fear, “She’s alive. She’s with Mark in the shitty hotel room we got. We couldn’t all come see you, for obvious reasons.” He trails off, loaded with hesitation. That plus his injury plus them turning up here out of the blue are all spiraling into the same point, that you’re preparing to hear the news of additional tragedy out in the world.</p><p class="p1">“There’s a huge <em>but</em>, I know it, so tell me,” you prod, careful to take his hand without exacerbating wounds you know you can’t see.</p><p class="p1">Ten positions himself in front of the door, giving you two a modicum of privacy while allowing him to keep a lookout and blockade if necessary. He orders, “Make it quick, we can’t draw this out too far.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta leans heavily into the wall, gripping your hand, staring at it, like somehow it will keep him from saying all he doesn’t want to. He takes a great deep breath, weight of the world on his shoulders, then he starts,“We spent this whole time preparing to leave, we were so busy we hardly slept. We kept everyone in the summer house so they wouldn’t be unnecessarily exposed, did all of the work ourselves.”</p><p class="p1">A spark of realization lights up in your brain.</p><p class="p1">“No wonder Kyungah never answered my calls,” you muse, knowing that if they had been consumed with making arrangements to escape the nation, that was more than a valid excuse for her not picking up a single one of your phone calls.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t say I saw her much, but if she was as busy as us, I get it.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry I never called you, by the way, so much was going on here too, a lot I couldn’t handle.” He smiles sadly, tiredly at that, pressing his other hand over yours, an unspoken understanding of <em>it’s okay</em>, just as he always knows how you’re feeling.</p><p class="p1">Yuta loses himself in telling you the story, all the gritty details that seem to have consumed him, “Father knew someone who could make passports for those that didn’t have them, we found an old pilot from his academy days that could fly overseas, spent most of the time gathering supplies, and finding a place to stay in Japan once we got there. We were all set to go.” His thumb presses into your tender palm a little too tightly, but he doesn’t catch your mewl of distress because he’s murmuring, “Then, when we were out getting the plane secured, she got a text from Sehun.”</p><p class="p1">Your whole body goes rigid at the mention of Sehun, funny Sehun, the man who had eyebrows just like his father’s. You’d been infuriated he was implicated and confined for his father’s false crimes, you'd spent all that time watching Suho’s sorrowful weeping. Which does not compute with him being able to communicate with his sister.</p><p class="p1">“What, but wasn’t he being held in Oasis?” you ask.</p><p class="p1">Yuta runs a hand through his hair and nods, “That’s what we thought, too, that it was weird. But he was never actually arrested, there was no reason for him not to have a phone. The message said he was in Seventh Settlement and needed help, he knew where we were staying because she texted him maybe a gazillion times. So we turned around.” He shrugs, and shrugs again, and continues on in a gruff monotone, all as his thumb dances over the pattern of scars on your palm,“Dumb, sure, stupid, misguided even, but Sehun’s her brother and we’d do the same.”</p><p class="p1">He’s right on the nose about that. You’d drop it all for each other at the slightest whiff of danger, you’d drop literally fucking everything to save John, Yuta, Mark, or Jaehyun, and they’d do the exact same for you. You’d already done it for your own baby brother.</p><p class="p1">“Anyways, it starts pouring, we get back to the house, something feels wrong, so we leave the car at the gate and we go through the yard.” The story starts slipping away with his voice, you can see yourself there, the downfall of water careening against your eyes. “There’s all these people on the porch which, again, weird. Because we kept everyone inside all the time. And we see it’s Sehun, her mother, and Regent Oh.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t like where this is going, not one bit. Regent Oh had been missing this whole time, for him to turn up out of the blue like this? Disaster is looming, stark and heavy over both of you. You can feel your arms cording with tension as Yuta holds you tightly and bares his teeth to grit out, “Of course we start running, they’re yelling at us, Slug’s screaming for her brother, it’s literally impossible to see through the rain, and we don’t realize that they’re cuffed to the porch, what they’re screaming until it’s too late.”</p><p class="p1">There has never been two words in the history of spoken language that are as haunting as the ones that pour from Yuta’s mouth then, “<em>Stop running!</em>”</p><p class="p1"><em>No, don’t tell me, please don’t Yu. </em>There are only a few implications of what the phrase might be, all of them bad, you don’t want to hear it, you can’t comprehend why a crystal tear is dotting onto the bruised skin of his face. But you need to know all of it, because you’re somehow the thread tying all of this together.</p><p class="p1">“Rigged sensor, draped across the first tile of sidewalk,” he details, rigid and detached. “One blast, just totally destroyed.”</p><p class="p1">His face blacks out in your vision. When you feel pressure around your arm, you realize both he and Ten have reached out at the same time to catch you from fainting. He can’t be saying that they... that… that they accidentally brought about the devastating demise of dozens of people, Exordium refugees, Baekhyun’s team — that Regent Oh and his family are <em>dead</em>.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god, Yuta,” you whisper, in total denial. “What?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s not lying, you can’t even remember the last time he’s lied about anything. One of his hands escapes from yours to fidget against his war wounds, synonymous with how he tells you, “I think I might be permanently concussed, and I can’t hear properly out of this ear, Seulgi’s nose is broken, Dad bled all over the place from this crazy gash in his neck.”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungah?”</p><p class="p1">He shakes his head, followed by the most forlorn shrug, “No idea, an explosion that big surely means everyone inside died. But we did not go back to check, as you can imagine. Came right here to meet up with Mark and see if we could get to Michael. Wasn’t even able to check on Suho.”</p><p class="p1">Suho. Oh my god, oh my <em>god.</em> Sehun is dead, Suho’s boyfriend is dead. It wasn’t that long ago you were joking with him and Baekhyun about how he’d lived up to his hotness. That you assumed you would get the chance to get as close with the tall bean of a man as you were with your own hometown friends. And now you’ll never have the chance.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know if you’re going to be able to,” your voice is a tumbleweed in the wind, lost amongst the rubble of this revelation. “I’ve been here for some time and he still has not seen his lawyer. I had to sneak in like a criminal to see him. ”</p><p class="p1">“We figured, that’s why Dad is in Elyxion now—,”</p><p class="p1">“Why would he go to Elyxion,” you ask, anxiety through the roof. “Why would they help us?”</p><p class="p1">“Why would they help us— y/n, have you been watching the news?” Yuta asks, totallyl stunned. You don’t know if you’re supposed to nod or shake your head, you doubt that Siwon’s news reports count as anything objective. He explains anyways, “Elyxion has been pissed ever since the arrests. We were getting their news at the summer house, and there have been huge protests in each of their cities.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh my gosh, what?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta nods, like it’s hard for him to comprehend as well, but is able to finish, “It wasn’t only in support of Regent Oh. They didn’t believe for a second that Michael was involved in what he was accused of. We saw <em>so many</em> <b>Justice for the Lees </b>signs on the broadcasts and General Zhang and the Elyxion Regent have been speaking on Michael’s behalf almost every day.” The broadcasts have been censored. You're sure Doyoung’s father has used his status at the station to prevent Neozone citizens from seeing what’s going on in Dorado, he’s doing his best to channel their opinions into a collective, false singularity. “When they find out about what happened to Slug’s family, things are going to explode. That’s why Father’s trying to get a meeting with General Zhang. John even decided to go with him, to see if his name could help us out.”</p><p class="p1">Good god, how much shittier can this get? John is only weeks removed from being at death’s doorstep himself and he’s nobly sacrificed his personal health to go plead for assistance from Elyxion’s top military leader. The optics of two prominent figures of Neozone’s military — Lt. General Nakamoto is only one rung from the top, and John is General Suh’s son — going to the other region is unpleasant to fathom, knowing they’ve willingly placed themselves in danger. But that is nothing compared to the danger said region faces.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, you need to call them as soon as this is over and tell them that Neozone has firepower,” you instruct with force, and both Yuta and Ten’s eyes blow apart with surprise. “Mimi’s dad has been manufacturing tanks, explosives, and guns out the motherlode for the Vice Premier. If that was a planted bomb, it was them, I’m sure of it.”</p><p class="p1">It’s on the tip of your tongue, too, <em>I think Premier Kim may be involved in this more than we know, </em>when Yuta’s heartbroken,“Y/n, somebody knew we were there. Or somebody told,” arrests that thought in your mind. Premier Kim mentioned once he still had contacts in Elyxion, surely this has to be the same people.</p><p class="p1">“Who?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know,” Yuta laments, another string of questions none of you have the capacity to answer. “Everyone there was a civilian. They just wanted to be free.”</p><p class="p1">Your parents have dedicated their entire adult lives to that notion. It feels like a personal blow to the chest - like chopping down the trunk of your family tree - that you’ve failed. You’re chained in by the bounds of your heritage, locked up for letting your heart run wild. You blink back a sea of tears and mumble, “Don’t we all? Now I’m a prisoner, too.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta gathers up both of your hands again, and presses a tender kiss upon the third knuckle of each of them, murmuring, “I’m sorry, by the way, I heard what happened with Jae.”</p><p class="p1">Pure panic shreds itself apart in you at the syllable of his name. You trust Jaehyun more than anybody, more than you trust yourself, but he is still Vice Premier Jung’s son no matter how much you and he deny it. You already have video proof that he’d do anything, and you mean <em>anything</em>, for you. Spilling it all to keep you safe would not be out of the realm of misguided possibility.</p><p class="p1">“Wait,” you whisper floats along, “do you think it was him? Who told?”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">“Jae knew where you were, you know who his father is. I…. I —,” You can’t breathe, really, you can’t, you’re gripped by the sensation your lungs might burst out of your chest. You love him, you love him so much, but if he did something like this, even in the attempt to save you, you can’t— you can’t deal with that idea. You couldn’t forgive him for that.</p><p class="p1">“No. He wouldn’t,” Yuta states, firm in his defense of his oldest friend. He shakes you, to get you to get your shit together as he repeats, “Y/n, he <em>wouldn’t.</em>”</p><p class="p1">You don’t think anything can quite convince you until you have definitive proof in your hand. This is not only a matter of trust anymore, this has dipped into life or death. Because even if Yuta convinces you that Jaehyun has not spilled this all himself, there is no earthly way he could ever convince you that your husband is safe from the possibility of them torturing the reveal right from his pretty lips. His father already took his own fist to his son's face, you know he absolutely possess the capability to commit far worse atrocities. </p><p class="p1">Ten looks up from his phone with urgency and orders, “Need to go, they’re going to take me off your rotation if we don’t stick to schedule.”</p><p class="p1">“Tell Seulgi I’m so sorry,” you plead with Yuta, knowing how absolutely broken apart she must be. You don’t even understand how she’s been able to make it all the way up here with him, is willing to continue on working on your behalf. You wish you could scoop her up in a hug right now, lean on each other like you did when all of your troubles were made up of only boy problems. “Please help me, though. I can’t do anything by myself.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve got you,” Yuta promises, kissing you on the cheek and handing you off to Ten, from one guardian to another. As you start to head down the flight once again, his words re-echo through the silent stairwell, “I’ve always got you.”</p><p class="p1">As Ten leads you through the first floor towards the exit of the residence, all you can think about is that Yuta is the most selfless person you know. Not a single sentence in that conversation had touched upon his own emotional state, which you know is frothing in a devastating shipwreck of impossibility. He must be terrified, seeing Seulgi’s family wiped out just like that, knowing his dad is deep in enemy territory with a very real chance of not surviving the endeavor. But instead, he’d preoccupied himself only with the care of his wife and his closest friend. You don’t deserve him.</p><p class="p1">And Ten? You feel terrible that you’d ever doubted him this morning. After this is over, no matter what, you’ll make sure you and Michael get his family set for life. That’s the least you can do for him in repayment for what he’s assisted you with. But now, when you have nothing to your name but your decency, you have very little to offer him.</p><p class="p1">You decide that you’ll hug him once you’re inside the safety of the room they’ve prepared for you in the guest house. It’s a purely selfish choice. You’d wanted to spend the rest of the day enveloped in Yuta’s arms — but you and Ten have been stretched out so thinly that it would be nice, to give him an ounce of comfort and take one in return. You’re so compelled to have a slip of human contact again that your unoccupied hand reaches for him the moment he turns the knob of the door, prepared to embrace him fully.</p><p class="p1">“Hello.”</p><p class="p1">Your fingers freeze in midair before they make contact with Ten’s elbow. Still partially hidden behind his form, you nervously peek around his side to see Kyungsoo arrogantly lazed across one of the armchairs in the space. It’s a shock to your system to be in his presence again, how he’s gotten even more coldly handsome in your time apart, now wearing his hair cleanly slicked back like all the officials do, Dorado flag pin proud upon the pocket of his suit. Like you’re staring at the apparition of a person you used to know, you cower under the weight of his displeased stare, as he tries to pick apart what the pair of you were doing together. He does not look happy.</p><p class="p1">“Mr. Do." Ten steps away from you to bow, an apparition of space that belies your closeness. He utilizes the soldier’s timbre so unlike his soft speaking tone to carry the performance, “We were instructed to not allow Ms. Y/l/n to receive guests.”</p><p class="p1">Great thinking, you don’t want to see Kyungsoo, you don’t want to know how he’s been gallivanting around the capital while you’ve been locked up. You’ve wronged him, you know it, you’ll never forget it. It’s amongst your worst sins. But he is no angel in this, not at all. Has he even attempted arguing on your behalf beyond the feeble instances he gave up? Jaehyun got assaulted on your behalf—,</p><p class="p1">“She is still my fiancee, no matter what has happened,” Kyungsoo states, drawing himself up to his regal stature, going toe to toe with your guard, “I think I should be allowed to see her, don’t you? Or are you going to tell the future Premier what to do?”</p><p class="p1">Ten blanches, and immediately caves, “Sir.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t blame him for doing as instructed, especially when he owes you nothing. But you can’t help the sting of slight betrayal as he shoots you an apologetic glance when Kyungsoo can’t see, and literally goes scurrying back through the door. Is it possible? To hate a person this much? You seriously feel like you might hate Kyungsoo, all of him, the suit you know Jennie Kim tailored for him, the pocket square that’s neon green and not pastel yellow, the way he looks smugly pleased to have you alone - or as alone as you can be, considering there’s a few other guards scattered across the room.</p><p class="p1">“Come to make sure that the wild Elyxion woman is behaving herself?” you ask, not attempting to hide any of your fierce vitriol, the dark sarcasm you’ve been bursting to turn his way.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s mouth tightens, displeased that you’ve chosen to go the route of resistance instead of joyful reunion. He spits back, “I couldn’t care less what you do with your time. Go cry over your ex-husband or whatever.”</p><p class="p1">Despite every fiber of you wishing Baekhyun had managed to soften his best friend's heart, you're subject to the pointed, aggrieved attack. Kyungsoo has every right to be rude to Jaehyun now. He finally has enough evidence collected to back up his assumption that the other man was in the upper echelons of assholery, was the worst kind of person. You’re right up there with him, birds of a feather fall in love together.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck off,” you spit, turning to face the wall in a childish display of defiance, not wanting to look at his smarmy face any longer.</p><p class="p1">“Thought I’d be nice, get you the first copy of Baekhyun’s album before they’re shipped out tomorrow, but what the fuck ever." He spares no drop of bitterness in his aggressive closing sentiment, “Enjoy misery.”</p><p class="p1">A thudding symphony of bootsteps ring into the room, followed by the extreme in decibel accompanying slam of the door.</p><p class="p1">You hazard a glance down to where he’s tossed the jewel case onto the coffee table, and it straight up hurts to see it. The preparations for this album had been cathartic in a way, you blocked out from the world in Baekhyun’s little studio, Kyungsoo’s healing voice building you back up from the ashes of destruction. It’s perfect, as is everything that Baekhyun creates. All of it - from the sensual font spelling out <em>Ridin’ Me</em>, to the image of him with his face done up in smoky makeup, chest exposed save for the scraps of flimsy maroon-embroidered fabric that you’d teased him hardly counted as a shirt. A shirt you’d embroidered because you were consumed with wanting to forget. A shirt you’d embroidered because you cared. He was your not-boyfriend’s best friend, how could you say no?</p><p class="p1">You grab it, the album Baekhyun had only made to raise money for Exordium, and you throw it against the bedpost, not at all satisfied with how it shatters apart, plastic raining onto the floor in a hazardous mishmash of betrayal.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>can i just get some credit for writing a fake research papers in a fic? student loseyoutoloveme could NEVER. hahahaha</p><p>thank you for reading! we're getting there, people!</p><p>song of the chapter: nct u - raise the roof https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulpiahKFXvU (cannot stop listening lol)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. salix babylonica</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Any satisfaction you may have held at getting your belongings returned to you are erased completely with Ten’s laborious claim, “You better hope this hotel is well hidden away, because every soldier in this city is going to be looking for you tonight.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is a freaking hefty one because i'm a dumbass and couldn't figure out how i wanted to split up the chapter. so you get all of it lol. strap in.</p><p>friendly reminders:</p><p>-tw: very light blood mention<br/>-go back to chapter 1 if you need a refresher on dorado history<br/>-map of dorado: ibb.co/S5VfGDD<br/>-a new family tree might be coming after this based on some comments lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">For the second time in as many days, you’re rudely woken up by the firm yank of a hand around your wrist and Ten’s voice urging you along, “Come with me, now.”</p><p class="p1">The right thing to do would be to stop him, to say, <em>Ten, I can’t keep doing this, I haven’t had the morning check in yet, they’re going to know I’m gone. </em>But if he’s abandoning pretense like this — with no care to put up even a halfhearted bid at pretending he’s a soldier that isn’t your friend — whatever is waiting out there is about to be a hell of a lot worse than Yuta finding you yesterday to inform you he narrowly escaped a <em>bombing</em>. What could possibly be worse than that?</p><p class="p1">You don’t know how you aren’t on every security camera in this place, even as cocooned as you are in his arms, biceps wrapped so tightly to your ears you almost miss his hushed reveal, “There was something new on the Premier’s schedule this morning.” His hand finds yours, and you feel the weight of his fancy, Ministry-issued phone being dropped into your hand, the glare of the screen already opened to something. It’s a bit hard to make out all the tiny characters with your still half-asleep, mushy mind, but it’s not hard at all to read what’s highlighted on today’s date on the calendar.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Meeting with ML, 9:30am. ML. ML ML ML ML.</em>
</p><p class="p1">You glance up to Ten in a panic. “Oh my god, where?”</p><p class="p1">“In the garden, we have to hurry.”</p><p class="p1">Bursting through the side door, hand in hand like outlaws escaping a saloon fight, you and Ten go sprinting through the grounds under the tree cover. There’s a courtyard by the entryway, lined in proud yellow rose bushes, that the officials sometimes take their meetings in. It has to be happening there. You’re still half a football field’s length away, but already you’re straining your eyes at the sight of two figures in black posted there. Makes sense it’s going to be heavily guarded. Yet, you’ve been attuned to all the details of your best friend’s existence, from the broad strokes to the minute, endearing bits of him. And you swear on your own life you see a ray of blonde hair peeking out from the ear of the cap.</p><p class="p1">“Mark, Mark, don’t!”</p><p class="p1">That sun ray of blonde whirls away as the person turns at the sound of your yell, “Bee? What are you doing here?!”</p><p class="p1">You run past Ten right up to where Mark is standing by the secluded side entrance to the courtyard, dressed up as a Special Forces soldier and staring at you in amazement. You clutch at his arm, nails rocketing right through his tender forearm, and you question in haste, “What am I doing here, what are you doing here?! He killed Premier Park, you can’t go see him!”</p><p class="p1">“What the fuck?” “Hold up, what?!”</p><p class="p1">“Yuta snuck me in to find <em>you!</em> “ Mark hisses, nodding his head to the guard beside you, one that you realize has silver hair, and is wearing your other friend’s familiar expression of shock. “This was the soonest he could get me here!”</p><p class="p1">You turn back to soak in Mark’s baby face, his reassurance that he isn’t here to sacrifice himself in some way, and you ask, “Wait, so you’re not here to speak to the Premier?”</p><p class="p1">“No, why did you think I was!” Mark looks around surreptitiously, to see if anyone could overhear him when he repeats in a low tone, “And why did you say he <em>killed Premier Park</em>?”</p><p class="p1">“If you’re here, then who the hell is ML?” you wonder out loud. You know what you saw on Ten’s phone screen, you didn’t make it up, Ten thought ML stood for <em>Mark Lee, </em>too.</p><p class="p1">A voice emanating from within the maze of rose bushes ensnares your attention, in an inadvertent, direct answer to your query, “Thanks for coming, my love.”</p><p class="p1">My love. ML.</p><p class="p1">“Do not call me that. I didn’t like it back then and I don’t like it now.”</p><p class="p1">Have you just accidentally walked in on a liaison between the Premier and an unknown woman? He’s never had a wife, never had a family, but of course someone in his position has the reach and the old-timey good looks to have any woman in the nation he wanted. Like you’re a set of kids spying on their parents, you, Ten, Yuta, and Mark all peek around the corner, straining to catch a glimpse of the woman inside. There’s a tea set prepared, two sets of utensils, two chairs by a table, a woman in all black with grey hair sitting opposite Premier Kim.</p><p class="p1">Your vantage point only allows a glimpse of the Premier, the way his face slips into subtle seduction as he says, “You know you do, you wouldn’t have come home with me that night if I hadn’t called you that. And you certainly haven’t minded all the times you’ve been to the capital as of late.”</p><p class="p1">“The Seventh Settlement issue is done, I passed the family off to the soldiers you sent. So is it set? Is his wedding set?”</p><p class="p1">This turns from a bit of salacious gossip to nefarious plotting at the snap of a finger, at the one cascade of pained exhale that comes from Yuta’s mouth. <em>The Seventh Settlement issue</em>. The mole is this mystery woman, it has to be. You press keenly into the pin-prick of the rose shrubbery, silently begging the woman to turn, so you’ll have the privilege of memorizing the face you know Yuta will destroy.</p><p class="p1">“No,” Premier Kim denies. “We’ve put a pause on the plans. For after the Michael issue is dealt with.”</p><p class="p1">Against the backdrop of Mark’s harsh groan at the mention of his father, the woman has no problem getting into a heated, comfortable back and forth with the head of the nation, “That was the deal, remember, that’s why I came to you after you sent for him. He would be Premier, then have his legacy and safety set with a marriage. That was it. What happened?”</p><p class="p1">“We ran into some problems with the blossom ceremony.”</p><p class="p1">“What kind of problems.”</p><p class="p1">“She and Jefferson's son….” Premier Kim starts. It’s a rather comical scene, watching all three of your friends’ heads turn to look right at you.</p><p class="p1">“That was a fake marriage,” she states with full nonchalance. Wait, what? Premier Kim’s affair partner, partner in crime, whoever she is, knows who you are outside of your place in Neozone lore? Beyond that knows about what happened with you and Jaehyun? “That’s what her father told me.”</p><p class="p1">A full slug of nausea shoots right down the length of your spine, as you watch the woman finally turn in her seat, revealing the profile of her face. Kyungah’s face, Kyungsoo’s mother’s face. No, isn’t she supposed to be dead? She was in the house when Yuta said it was bombed, she can’t be here right now. You're making this up.</p><p class="p1">Mark sees her too, though, because you hear his disbelieving, “Auntie?”</p><p class="p1">“Our son,” Premier Kim corrects, because he’s right, Kyungsoo is their son. “We got their marriage set aside, but their flowers already blossomed. She was going to go through with the ceremony anyway.”</p><p class="p1">“That selfish little girl,” Kyungah growls, a personal blow you hadn’t expected from the woman you once hoped could be your mother-in-law.</p><p class="p1">When you blink, Yuta has his arm extended across your torso, from where he’s jumped in haste to hold back Mark from doing something stupid. The corner of your nose twitches in distaste. Can this really be her, you’re not quite believing it. You put your own comforting hand on Mark’s shoulder as you push past him, to stand as close to the opening as possible without giving yourself away, to ensure you hear it all clearly.</p><p class="p1">“She was ready to make a fool out of him, and he was ready to defend her for it.”</p><p class="p1">“It was clear she never cared about him.I don’t understand why Kyungsoo is so stuck on her.Why does he keep insisting?” Kyungah mutters darkly. You want to know the answer yourself, you have never understood his drastic change in behavior since they’d brought him to the capital.</p><p class="p1">“I may have implied that…. he needed to,” Premier Kim sighs, a loaded, veiled statement that is impossible to interpret. Needed to insist about you, or needed to have a wife in general? You already know that they’d suggested an arranged marriage to him and he turned it down in favor of you. “She ruined all the plans that were supposed to happen two years ago, I had to make sure he wasn’t bringing her around so she could do it again.”</p><p class="p1">Plans? What the hell does he mean by plans? And by two years ago, a length of time that is tattooed out in agonizing memory across your back? It’s about to be the second anniversary of Jeno’s passing. Even though you haven’t been able to track the days, the turn of the season always brought about the downturn of your emotion. Fall meant mourning, meant the beckoning, sobering call of the winter snows to come.</p><p class="p1">“What plans? If you’re putting him in danger I need to know,” Kyungah demands the information on behalf of her son.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim reassures her vaguely, offering up no details, “Kyungsoo will be in no danger.”</p><p class="p1">“I told you everything, the cities that singer was going to on his tour, how Hyungsik was suspicious about his grandfather, that those boys weren’t attending the baseball game so you’d have a chance to make the arrest. How Kyungsoo and the girl were previously involved, and even where we relocated Exordium to. You need to give me everything you have. He is my son.”</p><p class="p1">Your jaw drops. Kyungah was the one who told him everything. That’s impossible, that’s literally impossible. It always seemed they were one step ahead of you, and you couldn’t figure out why. From your peripheral vision, you catch Mark blinking hard, like he’s convincing himself he just heard what he heard. Yuta comes off as dumbfounded as you are.</p><p class="p1">“Our son,” Premier Kim repeats the correction, gritting his teeth, remaining steadfast in keeping things close to the chest, “and all you need to know is that he’ll be safe. Shall we drink some tea?”</p><p class="p1">The lurid steam curling up from the porcelain cup is blown in a hurricane of wind right to your line of sight. You gasp out loud the moment Kyungah’s hand curls around the handle, “No!”</p><p class="p1">“Bee, shut the hell up!” Mark hisses.</p><p class="p1">You’re fighting against Yuta’s grip, you’re almost exposed in the entryway, you can’t look away from where she’s inhaling the floral scent of the cup. “She can’t, it’s poisoned Mark, oh my gosh, we have to say something.”</p><p class="p1">“What?!”</p><p class="p1">“Shhhhh, they’ll find us,” Ten warns you all, and you’re forced to shut up in horrid silence as Kyungah tiptoes out onto the plank of disaster. <em>Obviously, in distilled form all chemicals can be toxic to humans if ingested.</em></p><p class="p1">Kyungah's hand halts around the handle of cup before she can spiral into self-induced disaster, and she expels a hefty sigh,“Did you really have to Dohun's family away, too, even if he somehow did put a hit out on my nephews and son?” That slip clues you into the fact that she believes the lies Premier Kim has been feeding her. You realize now that she’s being manipulated. This is some kind of twisted manifestation of a mother’s all consuming goal to protect their child that she’s allowed harm to come to her <em>foster brother</em>. It’s evident in the way her voice finally shows some emotion when talking about Seulgi’s relatives, “When I went to pick up the son, all he could do was cry for his sister. Dohun’s daughter was so—, his daughter.”</p><p class="p1">At Kyungah’s sudden halt in words, Premier Kim asks, “What about her?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t think she was in the house before I left. Neither was the Nakamoto kid.”</p><p class="p1">Your hand darts out to grab Yuta, to ensure he’s still there with you, that his simmering fury won’t erupt and give you away. He’ll get his revenge, he and Seulgi deserve all of that and more, but it can’t happen here, not when there’s a dozen guards lining the inside of the garden who would end his life in an instant.</p><p class="p1">“They’re here in the city somewhere,” Premier Kim pinpoints the truth in his theory, an eerily chilling autumn wind crashing through you as a prelude to his next statement, “she’s still here. They always run to her first.”</p><p class="p1">In an instant, all three men are pressed into your frame, tugging you away from the rosebushes. You don’t move to struggle, you know need to get the fuck out of here, not for your personal safety, but for theirs’. If you don’t get out, you know you're going to be used as bait.</p><p class="p1">“They’re coming for her. We need to get her, now, before she hurts Kyungsoo,” Kyungah orders, raising her hand to signal for the soldier.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim waves away the nearest guard from stepping forward and acquiescing. He fixes her with a much more pleasant, intended to be less threatening statement, “We’ll deal with her in time, my love."</p><p class="p1">Kyungah doesn't have anything to say in response, though you have no idea how she's placated by such an appalling sentiment. That, however, is lost in the winds of horror, because right then, <em>she takes a sip of her tea. </em>It happens too fast, even if you were at risk of getting caught, there would’ve been no action quick enough to stop it. Your jaw drops in horror as the four of you remain rooted in your spot, not possessing the capability to do anything but watch and pray that somehow your hypothesis was wrong.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim fixes her with a disturbingly romantic stare and murmurs, “All these times we’ve come together in the capital, we haven’t had a conversation about our lives. How are you, my love? I’ve truly missed you all these years. You could’ve just called me, but you always came to visit me.” Is he really hung up on her after all this time, is that what this boils down to?</p><p class="p1">“I have, as well,” she admits, wistful and nostalgic, though you can’t tell if this is an act or the dregs of that feeling she’d told you about once. “I’ve thought a lot about you in our time apart.”</p><p class="p1">Your earlier hypothesis is confirmed the moment the corner of Premier Kim’s lip curls up in a smile and his tone goes to the depths of sensuality, “It’s not too late, we could have a blossom ceremony, get married. We could steal you a flower seed, I think Boyoung can turn the cameras off for us.”</p><p class="p1">“I know it was you.”</p><p class="p1">You and Mark lock eyes at Kyungah’s out of the blue snarl, and look back to see that Premier Kim has just flinched backwards in his seat. It’s totally not out of the blue, though. The man has just shown his hand in his obliviousness, he shouldn’t have known that Mark’s mother had stolen a seed for her ceremony.</p><p class="p1">“The moment I saw your Chief of Ministers’ husband in my sister’s house all those years ago, I knew it was you,” her voice pitches into fury as she quietly rages at him in a paradoxical storm. “You were the one who showed me your ancestors’ pictures, she looks just like Taeyong’s old soothsayer.”</p><p class="p1">“Your sister….” Premier Kim trails off, putting it together that you’d managed to free the remaining Night of Darkness victims from Siwon and Taeyeon’s house. He whirls back to Kyungah in a rage, “You told me you saw nothing on that girl’s footage!”</p><p class="p1">Kyungah hadn’t given up everything. She’d seen Siwon’s scarred cheek on the video feed you’d watched together and never gave up that knowledge, hadn’t told them where you were going instead of the baseball game, didn’t know she was setting up Regent Oh to get killed.</p><p class="p1">She laughs, coldly appalled with his naive belief, “I lied. You really think I kept coming to the capital after we made our deal because I missed you? Snitched more details than you ever asked for, sent my own <em>foster brother </em>to exile because of a hidden love for you?”</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim smiles placidly and asks with full innocence, “You really think I sent the Oh family to exile?”</p><p class="p1">“I know you’re not arrogantly stupid enough to ignore the law. A government official who commits a felony will be sent into confinement out of the country. The only reason why I agreed to bring his family from Oasis to Seventh Settlement in the first place was your guarantee that they would be safe under your Special Forces’ protection,” she dares him to cross her. You glance over to Mark for nonverbal confirmation that she’s telling the truth about the bounds of the law that have clearly been broken, and he dips his head in a low nod, unable to take his eyes off the scene.</p><p class="p1">The official casually tosses a stack of papers onto the table, like they’re about to do the daily crossword together, but you don’t even need to see it to know what’s going to be on the front page of that newspaper. Yuta had painted the picture fantastically enough, his beautiful summer home razed to the ground in a devastating badland of ash and grief. None of that makes its way into Premier Kim’s lackadaisical tone when he practically trills, “Well, I’ll let you be the first one to see this before it breaks tomorrow.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungah’s entire body has gone rigid in the chair, fingers unable to reach out and touch the leaflets. You’re frothing with despair quickly because you can’t figure out if her behavior is because of the poison or because of her heartbreak. Even the totally breathless <em>No</em> that leaks from her twisted mouth does not provide any wretched relief in conclusion.</p><p class="p1">“Isn’t it terrible?” the head of the country smirks, in total victory. “The boy sprung Dohun out of his confinement in their home, and as a family, committed this suicide mission on behalf of their region.”</p><p class="p1">Oh, holy shit. Holy <em>shit.</em> They’re going to frame this as an act of war by a citizen of Elyxion, there’s no further interpretation needed.No wonder you never were able to find Regent Oh here, they hadn’t even brought him to Pandora as part of their plan. Regent Oh must’ve been so relieved to see his foster sister come to rescue him, wouldn’t have any idea what was about to happen. He never got to know that his other foster sibling was safe after all these years. Sehun never got to meet his cousin. They’ve crafted the details to tell the story they want, that Sehun acted to free his father, they took their revenge on innocent civilians to make a statement. Not that they were wrongly <em>murdered</em>.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You don’t even realize what she’s doing — that she’s concealed a knife from the table in her napkin, that she’s going to <em>kill Premier Kim </em>— until Kyungah bolts into standing and swings the blade right in the direction of his throat. </span>
  <span class="s2">You have no clue how no one hears your ear-piercing shriek, or Mark’s yell of horror, much less Yuta’s loud bellow of shock or Ten’s horrified scream.That all dissipates into Premier Kim’s groan of pain as the blade just barely misses stealing the life from him, leaving him with a bleeding gash across his pale throat. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s3">“You had to take my brother, too?!” she shrieks as she continues to swing away wildly, ribboning the air with the weapon in haphazard precision as she attempts to actually take his life. He cowers backwards, guards too paralyzed to do anything to protect him. “It wasn’t enough to take my sister and my son?!”</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s3">He springs into action at that final statement. He punches the blade right out of her hand before the newly-moving guards can reach them, and in one more blink, has her pinned up against the wall of rose bushes, hand going around her throat. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s3">“<em>Our </em>son,” Premier Kim spits as she trembles in his hold, surrounded in an eerie halo of yellow roses. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His fingers flex around her throat, and she coughs with the action. When her head lolls back, the skin of his hand is dashed with a thousand droplets of red. She didn’t cough because she was choking, it’s because he’s actually poisoned the mother of his son. He has just sentenced Kyungah to death without a care. </span>
</p><p class="p1">Her eyes dart back to the tea cup, the cup she’d only taken one sip of, and the words convulse out of her, “K-Kyungho… w-why…”</p><p class="p1">Kyungah groans, trembling hand coming to press at her mouth pulling away drenched with a waterfall of crimson blood. When he lets her go, <span class="s4">her entire body wobbles violently, and then she crumples to her knees, somehow still maintaining the capacity to catch herself on the edge of the chair. But one more breath </span>drains the remaining strength out of her and she slumps to the floor, lungs already pushing out air in a death rattle.</p><p class="p1">“He is my son, too. You’ve only acknowledged that fact since you’ve wanted something out of me,” Premier Kim sneers, stepping away from her like she’s a bug he’s just quashed. “I waited for you, all these years! I, Kyungho Kim, waited for <em>you</em>. Sidestepped marriage, having a family of my own, hoping you’d come to your senses and join me in Neozone!” This is the world’s most twisted love affair. You still remember how you’d empathized with Kyungah as she told you the story of her son’s parentage, how it felt like she’d understood what it meant to not be with the person you love. “But at least I have repaid my chrysanthemum for the years it’s lied in wait for you, by taking your life instead,” he snarls, each word pricked with cold derision.</p><p class="p1">Kyungah’s hand presses into her chest, trying to relieve the building pressure so she can continue to talk, “W-we could’ve never had a ceremony. And I didn’t want to try, y-you knew that.”</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim reveals the role he’s intended for you to play all along, the manifestation of his past love story in the present generation, “I am the most powerful man in the country. I could’ve made you a Neozone citizen in the government portals with a snap of my finger. It would’ve been a harmonious sight for the nation, a proper, educated Elyxion woman realizing where she truly belongs.”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungsoo—,” Kyungah whispers, addled mind focused on her son and her son only.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim ruins her with an antagonistic accusation, spit down at her from where he’s standing over her prone body, “But you took my son from me and you raised him as a lowlife who runs around with rabid Elyxion girls and doesn’t give a shit about his bloodline.”</p><p class="p1">“I… I just wanted to keep him safe…” she breathes, forcing the words out with much effort from the depths of her being, “because of me. Because of how you would’ve treated him. Exordium was my life’s work, but I gave it up for him…. please….”</p><p class="p1">You know exactly how it would’ve gone. Premier Kim would’ve erased every bit of Kyungsoo’s Elyxion heritage without a care, an unacceptable fact to the woman who had once dedicated her entire life towards the betterment of the other region.But he doesn’t know the full truth, that Kyungah actually raised Kyungsoo in the city outskirts. He’d told you with full confidence at your first meeting that he was from Neozone, had never thought otherwise. She’d sacrificed her heritage for him and is being executed for it. Kyungsoo is a boy from home, he is. Only a Neozone boy loves the sun in your high school’s atrium, the omelets at Bomb’s Away, and the cheery, beautiful blueberry fields.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll be the one keeping him safe from now on,” Kyungsoo’s father sneers sarcastically, not viewing any of her actions as protective. “I never got the satisfaction of seeing an Elyxion woman bow to me, much to my regret. But his marriage will be the first of our nation’s future, the Neozone bloodline will be the sole fabric of our nation from here on out. Y/n will do for us what you never could.”</p><p class="p1">It’s not just a violent war, but one of the heart, as well. One in which the Elyxion heritage in this nation is erased by brides giving it their heritage up in deference to their husbands', and vice versa, you’re sure. Forgoing their traditions for ones they never intended to partake in, diluting their bloodlines until there isn’t a drop remaining. If you could do it with a willing mind and a tender heart, why couldn’t everyone else in the nation?</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim makes sure to get in the harshest of blows at the end, “No one has ever found out the truth of you. I’ve had to grind your existence into silence so I wouldn’t be seen as a weak, feckless idiot by my compatriots. This little part of him will be erased, forever.”</p><p class="p1">“He’s always been a good Neozone boy. Always,” she whispers, a sparkling cascade of tears falling from her shut eyes.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim bends down by her side, as if he’s descending to meet his lover in bed, and his venomous words punish her, “Don’t worry, my love, I’ll make sure that’s all he ever is. Thank you for everything, you’ve been a great help.”</p><p class="p1">You know with full certainty that she’s going to die. You’ve seen this sort of grotesquely shallow breathing before, the will to exist dissipating from her molecule by molecule. You feel the moisture pool on your cheeks, somehow gotten to the point of silent sobbing as you watch her final moments.</p><p class="p1">But you are unable to confirm her tragic passing because Premier Kim bellows, “Guards, get the girl!”</p><p class="p1">“We need to go, <em>now</em>,” Mark hisses as Yuta grabs you from behind, already tugging you along to the service road that you and Ten had snuck out on several times already.</p><p class="p1">“The bag,” you gasp, recognizing you only have the clothes on your back right now. Not your phone, not your computer, holding a treasure trove of precious information you need. “We have to have it.”</p><p class="p1">Ten steps back and nods. “I’ll get it.” No, you don’t want him to do this, he can’t throw himself into the fire for you.</p><p class="p1">Mark doesn’t give you a chance to deny Ten, only informing him, “Meet at the Subway by city center, the one by the out of business thrift store. Sunny’s picking us up in fifteen.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll destroy it if something happens,” Ten affirms. His final request is straight to you, the confidante he never expected to have, “Tell my parents if I don’t show up.”</p><p class="p1">You press on your toes to kiss his cheek, then you take Mark’s hand and run.</p><p class="p1">You don’t have a single thought in your mind but blank survival, the slap of Yuta’s boots on the ground, Mark’s fingers in yours once again, and knowing that there is a very real possibility you’re going to have to tell Ten’s parents that he’s dead. You have the barest head start, any second now the guards are going to come pouring out of that courtyard and find you escaping down this dirt road, you have to go.</p><p class="p1">You shimmy through the shrubbery that leads to Main Street, folding into the crowd that’s formed in response to seeing that security has closed off the usually open gates to the public entrance of the residence. You slow your pace down into the speedwalk of your life, peeling through the streets like you’re a group of city dwellers trying to escape the frenzy of tourists, not three fugitives on the run from government agents. Yuta navigates the way to the meetup location, with Mark taking the back watch, eyes glancing over his shoulder every fifth second to ensure you’re not being followed.</p><p class="p1">You burst through the doors of the Subway in a ruckus, causing all the customers to look your way. Seulgi is in a corner booth, sandwich in her hands halfway to her bruised face, the food falling all over the place when her fingers slack in shock. She gasps, “Oh my god, what did you guys do!”</p><p class="p1">“No time,” Yuta babbles, grabbing her hand and pulling her up from the table. “When’s the car coming!”</p><p class="p1">“2 minutes!”</p><p class="p1">He scoops all of you up in the width of his arms, hurrying you out of the shop and down the street to the corner that is covered in weeping willows. The bare, descending branches provide the slightest hint of cover as anxiety takes over. The garden was steps away from the guesthouse, Ten should’ve been right behind you if everything went off without a hitch. You bounce on the balls of your feet, consumed with awful angst about what’s happened to him, reaching levels of frenzied hysteria when there’s only the sight of customers exiting the shops on the street.</p><p class="p1">“Come on Ten, come on!” you mutter, culminating in a frustrated yell, “Where is he?!”</p><p class="p1">“No idea, but I see the car,” Yuta announces, recognizing the decrepit blue van that’s barreling up the street. As the car rolls up to the curb, the older woman in the passenger seat looks barely recognizable in her Chinchillas cap and sweatshirt, so different from the maid’s uniform she wore in the mansion. Sunny gives you a half-hearted wave from behind the wheel as Yuta helps Seulgi into the car first, then pushes Mark in. When he prepares to get into the passenger’s seat, he sees you haven’t followed them in and presses you, “Get in the car, dude, let’s go!”</p><p class="p1">You don’t turn to answer him, you only stare down the still empty street and respond, “We can’t go without the computer. God, we can’t go without Ten!”</p><p class="p1">“Get in the fucking car, bee!” Mark shouts.</p><p class="p1">Your fingertips touch the handle of the door, eyes straining for something, anything, and coming up empty for the final time. Then you hear it, Seulgi’s quiet call, “Other side!”</p><p class="p1">There’s a shadow of all black in the midst of a hundred yard dash on the other side of the street. You can’t believe you didn’t check that side, there’s a sprig of lilac flapping in the wind behind the tail of the cap, Ten’s purple hair. It’s Ten, it’s him, he has a duffel bag in hand and he’s here, he’s blowing past you to catapult into the back seat of the van, landing on Mark’s lap with a hard <em>oof</em>.</p><p class="p1">You follow him, and the van screeches away before the side door is even closed.</p><p class="p1">Ten’s chest is heaving with effort, waves of sweat beading against his forehead, a set of twin bruises cratered into his undereyes, ones that match the fading purple on Seulgi’s face. But he doesn’t seem to care he’s had his nose broken, he doesn’t cower in pain, he lifts the bag over and plops it in your hold.</p><p class="p1">Any satisfaction you may have held at getting your belongings returned to you are erased completely with Ten’s laborious claim, “You better hope this hotel is well hidden away, because every soldier in this city is going to be looking for you tonight.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“He poisoned her?!” Seulgi’s disbelieving gasp cascades right into your ear from where she’s pressed into your side.</p><p class="p1">The two of you haven’t left each other’s embrace since you’ve arrived in this small hotel room. You’d collapsed in a hug in the middle of the shitty rug once the door was unlocked, and you’d stayed with your arms around each other, even now late into the night as you talk.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, in the tea like y/n said,” Mark confirms, wearing the same blank look he had since sinking onto the bed. “I can’t believe he didn’t hear us scream.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even have the capacity to think of the garden right now as Yuta wonders out loud, “What’s the move? We don’t have much time to stay here if what Ten said was true. We’d probably have to get out of the country as soon as possible.”</p><p class="p1">Mark turns to Sunny, where she’s washing the blood out of Ten’s clothes, and asks, “Do you have any memory of what dates they could’ve been waiting for this year? If it’s soon, we’ll stay as long as possible. But otherwise we need to leave.”</p><p class="p1">“I have the video from this year’s ceremony,” she confirms. “I filmed most of it.”</p><p class="p1">You get up from your respective resting places to crowd on the bed beside Mark, surrounding Sunny as she illuminates the phone in front of you. You’ve seen this footage before, when Mark’s mother had showed it to you in the back of the van driving back from Zero Mile. You’re still deeply affected by the image of Taeyeon with the blood streaked across her face, the noise of the haunting, clerical chanting from her husband. So you shield your eyes and extrapolate from their comments,</p><p class="p1">“January thirty first… that’s when they reopened the Pandora building. October second… when they arrested Dad.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s tomorrow,” Mark snaps, and him pausing the video causes the silence of the unnerving recitations to ricochet into the room. “Has there been a trial date announced yet?”</p><p class="p1">“There’s not going to be a trial,” Seulgi quietly denies, burrowing a finger into the crook of her eye to staunch her tears. “They killed Papa without one.” There’s an unspoken continuation to that sentence, <em>they’re going to do the same to your father. </em></p><p class="p1">Yuta goes into attack mode, wanting to draw up a plan before you dissolve into chaos, “So what do we have? We saw him kill her but didn’t get it on film. The house was bombed but it’s going to be announced as a conspiracy. We have no actual proof.”</p><p class="p1">“My blood test results could be something,” you offer, knowing Wendy would fax you proof of the pyrethrin contamination if you asked. “Mimi has some pictures of the weapons, but that definitely won’t be enough.”</p><p class="p1">“What did he say, <em>she ruined all our plans from two years ago?</em>” Yuta recalls Premier Kim’s discussion with Kyungah. “Isn’t that the same date that you and No were taken?”</p><p class="p1">Your open your eyes, eyelashes reluctantly pulling themselves apart to see the gory image of Taeyeon in the middle of the talismans, the characters <em>11</em> and <em>23 </em>drawn out upon the curve of her shoulder blade, a copycat image from the video taken two years ago when those numbers had ended up on her face. They’d taken you on November twenty-third. You and Mark lock eyes. He knows it, too.</p><p class="p1">He rummages around in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out the flashdrive that had opened so many awful doors. “We need to check this. Anything that happened around that time.” Yuta is closest to the bag Ten had retrieved, he pulls out your computer and plugs in the drive as Mark details, “Check the day of Changmin’s blossom ceremony. General Suh came back for that, but who comes back specifically for a blossom ceremony that isn’t their child’s?”</p><p class="p1">Yuta flicks through the files, scrolling all the way back to November of two years ago, shaking his head when he comes up empty, “No videos at the ceremony.”</p><p class="p1">“John’s house, Jae’s house or Mimi’s.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta again looks through the files, and opens a few that match the time and location. But there’s nothing more than the usual feeds of houseworkers coming and going, maybe a car pulling up and leaving. Nothing of note.</p><p class="p1">“The mill?!”</p><p class="p1">“Nothing!”</p><p class="p1">“The broadcast station,” you murmur, more to yourself than anyone. You remember you had this conversation with Jaehyun, not them, and explain, “Mimi said her father frequented the broadcast station. We were put on camera.”</p><p class="p1">Yuta combs through the files, the basement footage, videos of the CEO’s office, the back entrance, the loading dock, nothing, nothing, nothing. It’s all the regular activity of workaholics who went into the building on a Saturday. He starts to go through the office feeds one by one, empty cubicles and discarded chairs, breakout rooms with writing still on the white boards. You don’t know why you have the thought, but you lean over and skip right to the number you remember that was by Doyoung’s tiny office, 127. He’d been a nobody within the structure of the company, this was a surreptitious enough place to meet.</p><p class="p1">“Before we head over to the ceremony, is everything prepared here at the station, Boyoung?”</p><p class="p1">Got it.</p><p class="p1">Here is a meeting of the minds so nefarious you physically cringe when you see it on the screen. Premier Kim is in the desk chair, addressing his comrades that are littered through the room: Doyoung, John, and Jaehyun’s fathers, plus Siwon and Taeyeon, all of them holding glasses of champagne as they drink and chat. In the dark reflection of the computer screen, the group of you in the hotel room exchange nervous glances, before you resume the video once more.</p><p class="p1">Boyoung Kim nods his head, solemnly loyal. “Yes, Siwon was kind enough to get cross-broadcast connection assembled the when he was last in Elyxion for a story. The whole nation should get the video feed.”</p><p class="p1">“Michael is going to regret the day he ever threatened me with a camera,” Premier Kim snaps, and a puzzle piece clicks into harrowing place. That conversation outside of the appetizer dinner at the announcement all those years ago, the fight they’d gotten into. Michael had wanted to put Elyxion’s suffering on national news to raise awareness, not as his superior’s punishment.</p><p class="p1">“You really hold onto a grudge, huh? That was three years ago, the public loves you now!”</p><p class="p1">“It’s not just a grudge. I became Premier five years ago and we have been trying to secure this since.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s been longer than that, hasn’t it?” Mr. Jung chuckles darkly. “This is bringing back the Neozone U memories.”</p><p class="p1">“I have wanted him as an ally since college,” Premier Kim huffs, a recall to Michael’s story about how he was asked to join their high society and declined. “But every time I try, he ruins our plans. Why he was fucking confirmed as VP, I’ll never understand.”</p><p class="p1">“Because the Regents have always wanted to stick to the status quo,” Mr. Jung offers in regret, disbelieving that his counterparts wouldn’t follow the same frame of thinking. “They should have understood that dissolving Elyxion and becoming one under Neozone would have been the best thing for this nation. That’s what we’ve always been working towards.”</p><p class="p1">There are a few muted gasps of surprise from those around you, but you’re so numb to this it’s of no consequence to hear the confirmation.</p><p class="p1">“Why don’t you pass a motion or something,” Siwon suggests, like he’s the political genius in it all. “Haha, shouldn’t it be easier than planning this?”</p><p class="p1">Taeyeon puts a hand on her husband’s shoulder, to step in as the wise peacekeeper, “We must control our own destiny, at the time the universe deems most fortunate for us like our ancestors did. The heavens have told us that November twenty-third would be the most fortuitous date for our success. Leaving it to a bill is too risky.” Luna’s paper is swimming in your eyes, one specific line, <em>A devout follower of old Zodiac religion, Lee often turned to ancient ritualistic practices to determine which days of the year were advantageous for him to act. </em>This is the same exact thing, and Kyungah had said Taeyeon looked just like the old soothsayer.</p><p class="p1">“Besides, like Elyxion would ever come nicely if we asked,” General Suh jokes, a morbid one that has all of them laughing but none of you. “Declaring war is the only way. I get now why you’re trying to target Michael like this. He’s always said no, right? And you need both votes to confirm?”</p><p class="p1">Motions of war completed by the government needed a majority approval from the region’s Regents, plus the approval of both the Premier and the Vice Premier. And you know for certain Michael always said no.</p><p class="p1">“He tried to fight me on their behalf after that huge winter storm, made such a scene that I had to bow to that Elyxion Regent’s demands. Got deeper in it the next time, had someone leave him out in the woods to miss the vote, but somehow they managed to find him. And he still voted no!” Premier Kim reveals. This has both you and Mark gasping in abject horror. That incident, when you were both naively sure that Michael was attacked by interlopers from Elyxion, that was all him? “We have to take the stakes to the maximum this time. Involving his son will break Michael, for sure.”</p><p class="p1">Fuck. A full body exhale cascades from your lungs at that. It was not Elyxion. Premier Kim was the one who orchestrated Jeno’s death.</p><p class="p1">Mark’s fingernails bury into your scarred left hand as Siwon innocently asks, “He has two, though?”</p><p class="p1">“The second one is still a child. It’ll be too horrific if we involve him. Neither region will like that, it won’t end up the way we want. You have to make sure that your brothers take the right boy, Choi.”</p><p class="p1">No, no, no, no, no, no. He can’t be confirming it like this, that he’d planned it all, that it was supposed to be Mark this whole time. That Jeno had been an <em>accidental </em>victim of a colossal fuckup of devastating proportions. This can’t be possible.</p><p class="p1">Siwon snaps to attention to begin his confirmation of your long-held theory, that his brothers were the three masked men who held you captive, “Matthew and Wonho have been at an Airbnb in the city for a few weeks now. Messaged today to say everything was in place at the train station. Woozi has been scoping out that professor’s fiancé for a good time now, he should be good to go as well. They are ready to give up their lives if necessary, they are dedicated to our cause.”</p><p class="p1">“Great, I will have the money transferred to their accounts as soon as the deed is done,” Premier Kim smiles approvingly, before he adds. “A few things for them to remember, the ransom note must be ambiguous enough that Michael cannot figure out what we’re asking for. I’ll have the Pandora Building ready for the pair of them, I’m the only one who has access to the dome. The weapons and vials of pyrethrin to douse them in will be waiting.” You had been poisoned. You didn’t just have a scar that simply wouldn’t heal, you’d been shredded apart by a <em>poisoned blade</em>.</p><p class="p1">“I thought it was just going to be the Lee boy,” Mr. Jung mutters, glancing over at his compatriots to confirm their thoughts about this plan.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim shakes his head and denies, “No, the fiancé knew Premier Park was thinking about reunifying the country under equal measure, I’m sure of it. He needs to be eliminated as well, but we’ll do it discreetly so people don’t wonder who he is.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo being there wasn’t an accident. <em>That’s not him</em>, all those arguments, those had never been about Kyungsoo being there in place of Mark, their bloodlines mixed because they were cousins. It was always planned for Kyungsoo to be there.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, eliminated?” Mr. Jung at least shows some decency that he hadn’t expected this kind of violence, “I was under the impression that this would be a ransom and let go situation.”</p><p class="p1">“Do you seriously think Michael won’t just pay off a ransom at the snap of his fingers?” Premier Kim drawls, well attuned to Michael’s moral compass in one aspect, but certainly not in the other, “If Mark is killed, he’ll do anything for revenge.” <em>Oh fuck, </em>emanates somewhere from your best friend’s space, tearful and pricked with sorrow, knowing exactly how his father had acted after the wrong son had died. It’s a phantom build, but you can sense the tsunami of survivor’s guilt picking up steam, roaring its ugly head to crash into Mark. “What a fool. He’s truly too naive for his own good,” the Premier continues by insulting Michael, then shakes his head to eliminate the improper thoughts andre-address his group of compatriots, “Anything else we need to be concerned about? Anyone?”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n,” Mr. Jung spits from his corner. You close your eyes out of habit for a moment, hating the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth. “She’s Jaehyun’s friend, she’s always with the two Lee boys, too. She will definitely get you in trouble.”</p><p class="p1">Highly, highly ironic that he was right.</p><p class="p1">“She’s an innocent little girl,” Premier Kim laughs, knowing how virtuous your interactions had been at the time. “We don’t have to worry about her.”</p><p class="p1">“When I asked you to give me executive privileges to look up a government portal, it was for her. I was suspicious since she’d shown up at Michael’s house with nothing, and I was right. Her mother’s bloodline is from Tactix,” Mr. Jung reveals the truth of how he’s known your heritage for this long. He’d known it even before everything with Jeno happened. “You know about that group in Tactix.”</p><p class="p1">“You think I don’t know she’s from Elyxion,” Premier Kim discusses you freely and with pompous authority. “I knew from the moment she lied and said she was from my ancestors’ hometown and couldn't tell me exactly where. We have no way of knowing if she’s connected to that Exordium group or not, and Michael has molded her into a good Neozone girl despite it all. So please, don’t worry about such irrelevant things as your son’s friends and give me the update on your end, Jefferson.”</p><p class="p1">That was their first, and only mistake. You have to leverage it.</p><p class="p1">“I will have Daehyun Kim secured after tomorrow,” Mr. Jung confirms with pride, losing all sense of previous hesitation. “His daughter Mimi has been salivating over Jaehyun, apparently. If I match them, his mill will be ours. He already supports the cause, so this should be easy.” You catch Sunny’s sniffle, at the mention of the boy she used to take care of being used in this dastardly way. You’ve already known this for some time, you and Jaehyun had figured it out together. But it’s a bruise straight to the heart, that he’d been manipulated this awfully by his own parent, forced into a fraudulent life just so these men could get their way.</p><p class="p1">General Suh tips his cap to his comrades in a show of support, “The military appreciates that our equipment will be quickly manufactured at home. We’ll be ready to approach the border with what they’ve made already once you give the call.”</p><p class="p1">“I spoke with the Security Minister,” Taeyeon interjects, still serene despite the raging testosterone in the small room, ever the workhorse of the administration. “As we’ve planned, the evidence will point to Elyxion. He is prepared to name whoever you wish as the perpetrator of this, and we can drag out the investigation as long as we need. Once the war is underway, people will quickly lose interest into the matter.”</p><p class="p1">“Great. I am still deciding whether we frame it as a random kidnapping, or blame someone such as that middling Regent Oh.” It’s slash after slash after slash, hearing the harrowed reactions of your friends, Seulgi’s heartbroken sob at the mention of her father, realizing they’ve intended to plant this on him from the beginning.</p><p class="p1">“Dohun would be a fantastic choice,” Mr. Jung sucks up to his friend’s decision making. “He stirs up trouble every assembly meeting, thinking he’s the Premier of Elyxion or something. He’s never let go of his win in getting the borders open. It’d be easy to say that Michael was the one who gave him hell for trying, not you, and so he took the boy out of revenge.”</p><p class="p1">“At least we won’t have to deal with those pompous assholes once they’re crushed. I wish it was already like that,” General Suh snarls, to the agreement of everyone else in the room.</p><p class="p1">Doyoung’s father chimes in with similar harsh sentiment, “Those sons of bitches have been wasting time since the Mad City Rebellion. Can’t deal with the fact they lost.” This is Elyxion prejudice, full force and roaring, an absolutely nasty sentiment coming from the men that were supposed to be running the nation as a whole.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim holds his hands out, a preacher proselytizing to his followers, “Patience, all. It’s been a long process, waiting for the heavens’ date that grants us the most fortune, I understand. But we will achieve our goal in having a true Dorado, formed by the great region of Neozone and only Neozone. We will dilute the Elyxion blood in this nation into nothingness. They will fall in line or be crushed. And they certainly won't fall in line.”</p><p class="p1">“We will leave a task force of soldiers behind to begin removing Elyxion citizens who have made their way across the border, send them back to their homes,” General Suh echoes Mr. Jung’s old threat to you on a widespread scale. “When the borders are dissolved, the only ones allowed to move freely within the nation will be our citizens.”</p><p class="p1">“I have also begun drafting a motion that will block all Elyxion marriages,” Taeyeon adds on. “At least one of each party must hold Neozone blood in their bloodline. Though, ideally, we would want mostly Neozone only marriages to occur.”</p><p class="p1">Even back then, they’d had no idea that their leader had had a mixed-blood child himself.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim stands up from the chair, drawing himself to his full, commending presence as he proudly declares, “I am Taeyong Lee’s grandson, a singular Neozone is all he ever wanted. No Elyxion, and certainly no united Dorado. I deserve the privilege of my bloodline leading the nation for eternity.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not entirely sure the symphonic <em>what the fuck</em> doesn’t come right from you. But you have background information the people around you don’t have, you’ve read an intelligent woman’s final thesis. You’ve read the one specific line, the conclusion that you thought was so wonderfully poignant - <em>My love, I will never lose the hope that our proud children will one day reconcile with the noble descendants of this region we’ve called home. They must undo the suffering I brought upon this nation.</em> This whole thing has been built on the back of a lie. Premier Kim has done all of this to prop up a legacy that was never what the creator intended it to be.</p><p class="p1">As if he’s heard your future thoughts in his position there, he moves forward with an even sterner declaration of his intent, “My grandfather was too kindhearted. He stopped his conquering within the bounds of our historical guidelines, but he should’ve taken it all. Every bit of this land was intended by the heavens to be ours, I will not allow myself to make the same mistake of denying that.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard you go on about that since I was in college,” Siwon jokes, but no one appreciates it.</p><p class="p1">In fact, through the video, you discern Premier Kim’s eyes darkening in displeasure as he asks in a steely voice, “Are you complaining?” He circles around, addressing everyone in the room with him, “Are any of you complaining?” Though they’ve spent the past twenty minutes laughing and conspiring together, all these grown adults fall silent at the threatening aura that has just been cast over the room. Premier Kim continues to pace, his particular brand of blackmail coming out in an unexpected way, “It was supposed to be Michael beside me, just as our grandfathers stood on the battlefield together. It was always my intention to have it done in the exact same way, though I have had to make do with what I was given.”</p><p class="p1">He’s willing history into repeating itself, and the only thing that’s standing between him and a total, wipeout victory, is the group of you huddled in this room.</p><p class="p1">“So don’t forget that, John,” the ringleader addresses the military head first, “I needed a General at my right hand like the second Lee was to Taeyong, and you wouldn’t have made it past sergeant wasn’t for me.” Even in the black and white footage, you catch the ruddy flush itching at John’s father’s neck, and he bows his head as a show of respect and gratitude to his friend.Mr. Jung repeats the gesture out of instinct, because he knows he’s next, “Jefferson, you have been my closest friend for some time, and because you have been so fervent in your commitment to the cause, I will make you Vice Premier when the time comes.”</p><p class="p1">“S-sir,” Mr. Jung immediately deepens his bow, practically kowtowed in half in his surprised thankfulness, “I’ve been moved beyond belief by this honor.”</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim hazards a lazy smile, due to the spineless allegiance he knows he will always have from the man. He doesn’t realize it’s because the man is desperately trying to do anything to forget his past, even resort to this violence.</p><p class="p1">Finally, he approaches the news reporter, the man’s scarred cheek flinching while his body cowers away from the show of authority, “And as I recall, you are lucky enough to have this position and status because I felt gracious enough to bestow it upon you because of who your wife is. Of course the greatest soothsayer my home has ever seen would pass down his legacy through his bloodline. I couldn’t do it without her, and you know it.”</p><p class="p1">Siwon dares to come across incensed by being tossed aside like this and he huffs, “I have always supported the cause, ever since we met you when we were in college. In fact, did we all forget the one who secured Michael Lee’s wife that night?”</p><p class="p1">“We all planned that night with great care,” Boyoung interrupts, deferring back to his superior, “Kyungho had just given me the money to take a majority stake in the station, so I doctored that security footage after finding it. It’s not like you discovered she was involved on your own. We simply got lucky she was there.”</p><p class="p1">Out of instinct, you reach for Mark even though you’re already holding his hand. This is too far, none of this should’ve ever happened, even if it was simply coincidence Mrs. Lee was found amongst the sixteen individuals they punished for their heritage. They’d sacrificed one person a year, Mark’s mother was the last one from the original group left, you could’ve been too late. They’d taken Baekhyun’s staff, too, intending to continue the deadly tradition. If this plan goes through, you’re sure there will be disappearances all over Elyxion to follow. They’ll let the blood flow freely if it ensures their success.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim stares Siwon down and plainly threatens him, “Blood of the enemy was what Taeyong used, remember that. Here it was a fitting punishment for those who dared to pretend they were not where they were from. But I have no qualms labeling anyone of any heritage my enemy.” Siwon blanches and quickly nods his head, then remembers what the other men did and folds his body in half as a further show of assent, that he wouldn’t dare cross that line and risk punishment.</p><p class="p1">Taeyeon steps in between her mentor and her husband, offering the placating statement, “Have we ever failed you? We make a harmonious team.”</p><p class="p1">"I've never doubted that we were fated to work together," Premier Kim accepts her support with an easy grace. "Your great-grandfather was the man who ensured my grandfather's victory, it's the universe's intention for you to do it again with me."</p><p class="p1">"The whole nation will see the might of our ancestral hometown's beliefs when you're through," she praises him, "for far too long we've been mocked, seen as savages."</p><p class="p1">“Correct, once Neozone is one, our beliefs will be installed as the national religion, and you will be in charge of promoting them throughout the nation. As they have always deserved to be,” he gushes over her like she’s his own daughter. “I certainly knew what I was doing when I made you Chief of Ministers in return.”</p><p class="p1">“We will not waver. We will be victorious,” she states, in a display of patriotism the others echo.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim loses all displeasure in favor of gratitude to the rest of the group, “All of you will walk beside me as we bring this nation to heights it has never seen before. To the Sons of Neozone.”</p><p class="p1">Mr. Jung raises his glass in a toast, and the others meet him, the clink of the glasses to similar to the hail of gunfire. The final toast is an undeniable threat, ringing loud and clear, <em>The Sons of Neozone, may each son from here on join our lauded group.</em></p><p class="p1">Footage cutting out, all you’re left with is the kind of overpowering silence that could send anyone into an early grave dug purely out of fear. Loathe to break the blackout but knowing time is of the essence, Yuta nudges his friend’s back, whispering, “Mark.” He’s met with the crippled demand of <em>I need a second, </em>before he turns to you, “Y/n.”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes flutter shut in unspoken agreement, <em>me too, I need a second, too. </em>This was never random, this was all planned, down to the detail, this has been in the works since none of you were alive, has been underway since you were children. Mark’s mother was taken when you were a child, you were sent on the train when you were a child, Jeno was taken from this world when he was a <em>child. </em>All Taeyong wanted was for the children of Neozone and Elyxion to grow up together, and now that is all about to be ruined.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, we need a plan, we need a real solid plan, not just this off the fly shit we usually do.” You open your eyes to see Mark sitting, defiant, at the headboard of the bed, breathing hard to reign in his emotions. It’s an incredible morsel of character development. At any other point of his life he would’ve been roaring for the door, Yuta and Ten would’ve had to hold him back, but he’s a storm of controlled rage.</p><p class="p1">“They’re going to declare war again, that’s what is happening,” Yuta speaks what you’re theorizing. “He said Elyxion would fall in line or be crushed and that they would never fall in line."</p><p class="p1">"They’ll get the vote of approval from Jae's dad," Mark breathes, connecting the strands between his father's disappearance and what's going on. "There’s finally no one there to stand in the way.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s what you think is happening? Not Mr. Lee’s trial starting—,”</p><p class="p1">Seulgi cuts off Ten’s naive plea with her harshly devastating words, “You need to listen to me when I say there’s going to be no trial. Papa was innocent and they killed him with no regard.” She looks to Mark, a friend she should’ve had in a perfect world, and cautions him, “They’re going to do the same with yours if they’ve already killed our aunt, too.”</p><p class="p1">“We have to get him today, then,” Mark states as he glances to the shoddy bedside clock. “It’s two am on the twenty-third. Today is all we have.”</p><p class="p1">This is it, it’s the day of reckoning, brought forth by the jeering pull of moonlight through the dusty windows.</p><p class="p1">Ten talks fast as he thinks through all the security protocols he knows, “I think they’re going to play things close to the chest. There’s a high, high probability that Mr. Lee was moved to somewhere in the residence. I’ll go back.”</p><p class="p1">You protest immediately, “Ten, you disappeared with me. You’re enemy number one.”</p><p class="p1">“I know all the security systems, know how they’re primed, know the best timing. I’ll do it.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll go, too,” Yuta offers himself up to assist the guard, denying both your and Mark’s objections with his faultless argument, “I went to military academy, I’m the closest thing to a soldier here.” He turns to his wife beside you, sending her a smile of wondrously true affection, and he assures her, “Love, you are more than welcome to sit this one out.”</p><p class="p1">You’ve been bowled over with revelations and hypotheses, horrors and heartbreaks alike. But out of all of you, the grief is freshest for Seulgi. She’d had to watch her own family die under her own inadvertent step. You’re not sure how she isn’t crazed with her anguish right now, and you’re in full admiration of this strong woman.</p><p class="p1">She even tries to stutter in denial, “N-no, I—,”</p><p class="p1">You feel a placid feeling of calm overtaking you, finally recognizing the benefit that your own grief has brought about. You give her an option that will cover her need to not feel helpless, “Okay, how about this. Mimi is in Windyville with her second cousin, that location will most likely remain un-compromised. Take Sunny, go back to Neozone, get my parents, Mark’s mom, Suho, whoever’s there, and keep them in the safe house with Hyungsik.” You have to add in a stipulation that you know Yuta will insist on, to keep his wife safe from more suffering, “Do not come back unless you absolutely have to.”</p><p class="p1">Seulgi gets the warning, intuitive as always, conveyed through your twin concerned glances. She presses her cheek back into your shoulder, and caves, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll go with you, Yu.”</p><p class="p1">“No,” you and Yuta deny at the same time after hearing Mark’s statement.</p><p class="p1">“That’s my <em>Dad,</em>” Mark hisses, fighting against his innate need to make a scene.</p><p class="p1">You grab his calf where it’s resting beside you, and you give him a pointed reminder, “Who will be in the most capable hands of two <em>trained</em> professionals, M.” This isn’t a cakewalk, this isn’t a stroll to the river or meeting his dad at the train station after his return trip. There’s a reason why Ten and Yuta had volunteered, because they know how to fire guns, because they’ve been preparing for this kind of violence their whole lives.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I’d sit this one out, Marco,” Yuta agrees with a head nod from Ten, “he’s gotta be the most heavily guarded person in the capital right now.”</p><p class="p1">He’s not the only one. It’s not just Michael.</p><p class="p1">“We have to get Jae,” you blurt, slightly appalled you’ve forgotten about him until now. “I’m sure he’s here.” Sweet Jaehyun - your true love, kept apart from you because of several erroneous men in denial - cannot be left behind.</p><p class="p1">Ten recognizes this isn’t a negotiable point, and suggests, “I’ll get on the servers, see where the Vice Premier has been frequenting. He should be less protected in comparison, so it’ll be easier for you. Not like we have a choice though.”</p><p class="p1">All that’s left is you and Mark. You’re regular people forced into becoming detectives, soldiers, protectors, and traitors all at once, in the quest to find the missing petal of your shared flower.</p><p class="p1">“We’ll update each other every hour, and we get them, no matter what. If we hear about an announcement, we go straight there. If not, we re-convene in Windyville and go right to the airport.” Yuta is emanating the legacy of his father, the Neozone military leader that had never given up on his morals. He glances around the group to confirm you’re all on the same page. There’s no time to make a better plan, even if you stayed up all night you couldn't come up with anything to improve upon. He recognizes this and orders, “Okay, get some sleep, people. We’ll get up in the morning and go from there.”</p><p class="p1">Seulgi clambers over your back to reach her husband, to hug him again and cry softly in his arms, overwhelmed with the news and the impending doom. Sunny retreats into the shadows of the bathroom to finish washing the clothes and begin organizing your belongs for escape. Ten, the spirit of practicality, sits himself at the table to begin scanning through the security protocols at his fingertips. You’re torn as to what you want to do, finding benefit in all three activities your compatriots have chosen.</p><p class="p1">But when you see Mark slipping out the window to slump against the grate of the fire escape, you know what to do. You gather up your computer and your bag in case you need to go right away, the culmination of your worldly possessions, and follow him to the balcony.</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t have to turn to know it’s you out there with him, he just stretches his feet past the iron bars and murmurs, “I, I can’t believe it. It was him the whole time.” The North Star has this particular gleam as you stare up at it, a beckoning call from the night sky you’re unsure how to interpret. Mark loses himself in the memories, bubbling with regret and betrayal, “He kidnapped Mom for being from Elyxion, intending to <em>sacrifice </em>her, and as a kid I laughed with him and let him play baseball when we did. He tried to hurt Dad so many times but we would drink bourbon and smoke cigars together every time he visited. He looked me in the eye after he killed my brother, after he wanted it to be <em>me</em>, and told me how sorry he was.”</p><p class="p1">Twin souls, split apart by the confines of human existence.</p><p class="p1">You dot your elbow upon his, a confirmation of your understanding, and your watery voice joins along, “I cried to his staff over the phone a thousand times, looked up to Taeyeon when I was still a teen. I was ready for him to be an acceptable father-in-law. I sewed him a tie.”</p><p class="p1">“You should’ve never broken that no personal requests rule,” he quips, a run-down attempt at getting you both to laugh, to bring one drop of sunshine to the awful strains of night. That fucking chrysanthemum tie. You should’ve known then, when he had no problem intimidating a scared teen into making one.</p><p class="p1">Though you’re unsure if you’ll ever truly smile again, you at least allow your lips to quirk in the semblance of one as you joke, “You owe me big time, by the way.”</p><p class="p1">“More than I usually do?”</p><p class="p1">“Jae asked me to leave with him when this all blew up, and I said no. So I could stay here and take care of our family.”</p><p class="p1">Mark looks dreadfully hurt at what you’ve said, not because it’s a personal insult, but because of how much he knows that decision means to you.“Why—,”</p><p class="p1">“You know exactly why,” you answer, no explanation necessary. “He did, too.”</p><p class="p1">It’s never been just Mark’s family. It’s been yours since they met you at the train station platform, since he called you <em>dude</em> and Jeno brought you a bunch of picked violets. His mother had never met you and still called you <em>my y/n. </em>It’s you, and it’s them, that’s how the heavens intended it to be.</p><p class="p1">Mark throws an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his embrace as he sighs in light-hearted amusement, “I guess I’ll have to buy him a beer after this.”</p><p class="p1">You pull back, recognizing that that had been specific phrasing. There is no guarantee you’ll make it out of today unscathed, but <em>after this</em> is the promise of a future. You have to ask, “That confident this will work?”</p><p class="p1">Mark shrugs, gazing up again to the enticing pull of the North Star, then solemnly confesses, “I have to be, there’s no other choice. We’ll heal the nation for the kid or go to see him. Either way, we get what we’ve always wanted. Jae will just have to understand if we go first.”</p><p class="p1">A tear immediately makes itself known in the corner of your eye at his honest proclamation.You’d selfishly thought that one life in exchange for a nation’s peace was too steep of a price. But you’ve realized that in your maturation, you’ve become willing to pay anything. If you died, Jaehyun would understand, wouldn’t he?</p><p class="p1">Your fingers dip into the pair of sweats you’d been wearing for the past few days, and pull out the slip of fabric that Ten had surprised you with, the bee and the strawberry smiling together. You press it into Mark’s hand, one connecting strand that you want him to have. If somehow something goes wrong tomorrow, he’ll have that to remember you by.</p><p class="p1">“It’s you and me, as it’s always been, huh?” you murmur, happy that you at least get to spend these last few hours with him.</p><p class="p1">“Jae has got to be the unluckiest fucker on this planet. Gets the best girl in the world and loses her to my cousin. Gets her back and loses her to me.”</p><p class="p1">It’s another joke to get you back to the way it should be, laughing over petty fights about your relationship status, all that childish jealousy and drama. But the mention of his cousin sets your heart alight, that there’s somehow still a clue of the bloody mystery missing. Premier Kim has been behind all of this, it’s confirmed now. Kyungah had partially turned coat in an attempt to protect her son, but that’s all you have. There has to be more.</p><p class="p1">You turn to search through the bag you’ve brought out with you, and you find that Ten has helped you out immensely, by scooping up the shattered pieces of plastic from where you’ve left them on the floor. The circle of metal covered plastic is unscathed in the bottom of the pocket, and your fingers tremble along to the tune of your voice when you speak again, “Kyungsoo… he gave me a CD. Baekhyun’s latest album. I would like to listen to it, but I don’t want to do it alone.”</p><p class="p1">Mark looks at you in confusion. “His latest album?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” you answer, suddenly breathless, “it was sent out for shipment today. I think one of the songs… might be about me.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s silence says all it needs to, <em>I</em><em>’d never say no,</em> <em>go ahead.</em> You load up the CD into the drive, your computer whirring to life as it loads the track list of songs right into iTunes. You’d been idly hoping you’d get to listen to a whole album of poppy, bop-tastic teen crush songs first before being confronted with the harshness of a lovesick, slowly plucked and crooned ballad. However, that’s what’s queued up at the start, nine little characters spelling out <em>Moonlight. </em>You can’t waste your emotions anymore, you click right on the marking without hesitation.</p><p class="p1">But instead of the track’s divine piano emanating out from the speakers, you’re blasted with a very cheerful chirp, “Hi to my Heartbaekers!”</p><p class="p1">You and Mark glance at each other at Baekhyun’s sudden greeting, bewilderment deepening when the singer launches into a speech to his fans, “You’ve been waiting for this album for so long, right! Well, that is because I wanted to record and include this secret live performance! I sing this song with my best friend, Kyungsoo Do. You may know him! We’ve been singing together since we were babies, we’ve waited for so long to do a duet like this. Because he is special to me, and this song is special to both of us, I wanted you to hear us perform it live before you hear the studio version. Please enjoy! I love you all!”</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s2">Before you can comment on the strangeness of the memo’s inclusion, a piano melody lilts across the frigid expanse of metal you’re sitting on, pinning you back into a state of stillness. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Have you lost your way again? The night air is still cold, get up. So, baby, hold on, I can’t leave you alone from a distance, I follow you.</em>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s2">Baekhyun has a perfect voice, it’s true. But the man who sings next has the most beautiful singing tone you’ve ever heard, has a way of enunciating the words so they drip tantalizingly down into your ear, entrapping you within the lyrics. Each note is crooned so tenderly, so wistfully, you think of the way that Kyungsoo had cried as he sung this in the studio, how you’d been primed to fall to pieces as the strains of moonlight from that night had burned you apart. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>You’re showered by a shower of starlight, I’ve never seen such an entrancing expression. I see you still like a picture, at the end of a gaze.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>A place that cannot be touched, a place that cannot be held, the reflection on the surface is not her. It’s my sad story that cannot be fulfilled. The closer I get, the stronger—,</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Oh, am I interrupting something?”</p><p class="p1">Both you and Mark flinch at the somber melody cutting out at the bustling noise of a guest. Because you’re only listening to the audio, you have to fight to pinpoint where you recognize that stern timbre from. You only have to wait a few seconds more before Kyungsoo confirms it himself, “Not at all, Premier Kim— Father.”</p><p class="p1">“I will take my leave, please excuse me, sir,” Baekhyun uses a stilted, polite tone as well, and this means that this recording had happened after he had joined them in the capital.</p><p class="p1">There’s shuffling sounds of Baekhyun leaving the room, the quiet click of the studio door, and Premier Kim gets right to it, “Come, son. Let’s talk about y/n.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” Kyungsoo immediately denies.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim laughs, but it is not merry, “I may be old, but I know what making someone your phone background means.” Oh, no. He was such a fool for that. He should’ve changed it. “No, after some persuading, the Elyxion Regent’s office was kind enough to send us the necessary paperwork to complete your government portal.” Lie. Kyungah told him. “Marriage, hm?”</p><p class="p1">“I intended to marry her, yes,” Kyungsoo confirms, knowing he cannot lie if they hold proof. “I am not sure what is expected of me as your son, but I am not prepared to entertain an arrangement otherwise.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s quite unfortunate for you, that we’re going to have to teach you this lesson two times around, but that’s a father’s duty, I suppose.”</p><p class="p1">“What lesson is that, sir?” Kyungsoo voices the question that the vague statement brought about.Similarly, you want to scream at the politician to stop speaking in platitudes like a douche bag and get to the point.</p><p class="p1">“Elyxion women are no good unless they recognize your superiority,” Premier Kim’s clarification is drowned out by your and Mark’s shared gasps. “You seem to like that trouble though, first with that professor, now with y/n. We’ve got to get you off that habit, son.”</p><p class="p1">“How do you know about her?” Kyungsoo demands, knowing <em>the professor</em> could only be referencing Luna. He doesn’t know anything of what you know now. You’ve changed your tune, you want to scream through the computer to tell Kyungsoo not to ask, <em>no, no, don’t!</em></p><p class="p1">“You thought I didn’t know? I knew everything. Our beloved Premier Park was particularly besotted with her. Called her Pint-Sized Park, didn’t he?” The familiar nickname drips into your ear with loaded poison. Premier Kim understands what he’s doing, he’s been a player in this game too many years.</p><p class="p1">“W-what, you knew that, too?” Kyungsoo stutters, “You knew who I was?” <em>You knew I was your son the whole time?</em></p><p class="p1">“Of course I didn’t know who you really were, I just knew that the Elyxion professor Premier Park loved visiting had a fiancé. The family link was only made clear to me with your second try at marriage.”</p><p class="p1">“I just, I don’t understand what my previous relationship has to do with my current one.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t get it either, you and Luna only share one common strand, that you were connected across the years by your feelings for the same man. You’re nothing alike, you share no similar interests, motivations, goals. But that’s a query to contemplate later.</p><p class="p1">Because Premier Kim throws the mother of all wrenches into the conversation when he nonchalantly drops, “Do you think, if she comes to the capital, y/n would like to share a cup of chrysanthemum tea with me? Premier Park loved it, we would drink a lot of tea together in the time before he died.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Pyrethrin is an organic compound that is usually derived from the chrysanthemum.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Chrysanthemum tea, not tulip tea.</p><p class="p1">It’s a credit to Kyungsoo’s intelligence how fast he puts it together, “That— No, Premier Park died of natural causes, he was old!”</p><p class="p1"><em>Oh my god, </em>Mark gasps, finally understanding why you’d been so scared he was there to see Premier Kim in the garden, how that one cup of tea had brought about his aunt’s demise that quickly. Hyungsik was right about his grandfather. It was never a conspiracy, everybody somehow knew that the Premier and Vice Premier did not fit right together. You’d never thought it would end up this way, though.</p><p class="p1">“Yes, indeed, seventy-five and as healthy as a horse,” Premier Kim says, sarcasm unable to be missed, even over this secondhand recording.</p><p class="p1">“He, he died because he was old,” Kyungsoo repeats, not believing the insinuation.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim takes caution not to incriminate himself directly when he confirms all of the other details, “Right, no one would think to check that an extra concentrated dose of chrysanthemum toxin would have made its way into Premier Park’s tea.” Then, he takes a turn somewhere you could not, in your wildest dreams, have ever anticipated, “Or how do you think that cute little house in Neozone would fare after a bombing? Would be a shame if that hill was flattened like the classroom at XM.”</p><p class="p1">Your thumb accidentally hits the pause button with your rush of nausea. This cannot be why, this cannot. You’ve heard the most impossible, fantastical claims today but this is by far the most outlandish.</p><p class="p1">Mark unpauses it, unable to hold the anticipation.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” Kyungsoo trips all over his shock, unable to reign in the devastation. “Oh my god. No, what? No, it was—,”</p><p class="p1">“Such a shame,” Premier Kim carries on, like he’s having a chat with his son about a baseball game their team lost. “Professor Park was working so hard on her thesis. All those theories on Taeyong Lee, on reunification. Shame that that will never see the light of day, shame her students won’t be around to carry on that work...”</p><p class="p1">There’s a chink, a crack in the foundation of his plan, like the lone cracked floor tile you’d found on your first day here. You have the thesis in hand, it’s about to be published, and he doesn’t know that.</p><p class="p1">“I’m going to kill you,” Kyungsoo rages, a genetic call to the way both Mark and his father are inclined to rage.</p><p class="p1">That’s immediately followed by the cacophonous stutter of guards’ boots hitting the floor. You can imagine they surrounded the Premier at the threatening words from his son. But the man only laughs, like he’s watching an animal do a trick, and he dares, “Will you now? Good luck making it out of the building back to your girl if you do.”</p><p class="p1">“Then I’ll go to the Security Ministry, they’ll have to open an investigation!”</p><p class="p1">“With what evidence? And do you really think the Security Ministry I set up will give you what you want?”</p><p class="p1">“Why are you doing this to me? I’m your son!”</p><p class="p1">Here it is, the reveal is coming whether you like it or not. All of the deception, the lies, the deceit, the pain, the horror, boils down to Premier Kim’s condescending statement, “Son or not, I’m having a hard time believing you’re not a willing conspirator in these women’s plans to scheme against me.”</p><p class="p1">That’s the unknowing strand you and Luna share. You’d never meant for it to be intentional, neither of you, but her paper, your scar, they’d been the ultimate acts of defiance in the face of impending tyranny.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo rushes to your defense first, “Y/n did nothing!”</p><p class="p1">“You don’t know her,” Premier Kim scoffs.You know exactly why he views you this way now. He’d written you off as a side character and you’d directly ruined his plans for war by killing Siwon’s brothers. By blinding the country with a calamitous type of love story that had occupied their minds to the point that all thoughts of an evil Elyxion were forgotten.</p><p class="p1">“I do,” Kyungsoo affirms, still at the point of his life he was convinced you were meant for each other. That because he was privy to your outward suffering, he knew every intention of your heart. You’d loved him so, so much for that, of course you had.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim changes the subject away from you with his declaration, “You will become the next Premier of this nation.”</p><p class="p1">“What? No!” Kyungsoo protests, “I will not put my name in for consideration when the Regents select.”</p><p class="p1">“The Regents will not be selecting. I intend to establish bloodline inheritance for the position. As my son, you will become the next Premier,” Premier Kim bursts out, domineering and unmoving in his intentions, the plan he’d concocted in exchange for information from his son’s mother. “To ensure this practice continues on after I am gone, you must have a wife. Since you will not entertain an arrangement, you have made this decision easy for me. Bring y/n to the capital.”</p><p class="p1">You hate that it makes sense.</p><p class="p1">You hate it even more to realize that Kyungsoo denies it right away, knowing just how much the idea of returning to the epicenter of your personal trauma would destroy you, “No, no. She cannot be here.”</p><p class="p1">“Wife, girlfriend, partner, whatever, I need to see for myself that you are destined true love as you say you are. That your flowers will blossom together. Otherwise I’ll view her exactly the same as I did Luna.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s deep voice is bombarding into your brain from all angles of memory, <em>y/n, my wife, my pretty girlfriend, </em>as he denies again, “I will not do this to her,” showing his strength but unable to hide the crack at the end of his voice.</p><p class="p1">“I think you might want to,” is all Premier Kim says, but the message rings loud and clear. “For her sake and yours.”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t need to re-hash the previous part of the conversation for his son to understand his meaning, that a cup of tea or a surprise explosive planted in your house would’ve been waiting if you did not grace them with your compliance. And far worse consequences, ones that you can’t even imagine, lurked over Kyungsoo’s head if he didn’t do what he’s being told.</p><p class="p1">“Great, I’m looking forward to seeing her around here,” Premier Kim drawls, knowing he won’t get another denial from Kyungsoo. Another not subtle suggestion is made as a follow up, “And be sure to clean her up into a nice Neozone woman, alright? None of that wild behavior whatsoever. It’ll be a great picture for the nation.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo gathers the strength to fight back for once, to argue with his father with abandon, “What? Having a family like you failed at?”</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim’s proper, fatherly tone wipes away into an unmistakable, insulting threat, “Two half breeds, shedding their identities to become proper Neozone citizens. Get it done.”</p><p class="p1">That’s why they had been so adamant they needed a marriage. If you - a woman they knew was from Elyxion, who had once stopped a seeming threat from them in the name of one of Neozone’s most beloved children - got married to the Premier’s son, a man only known to have the purest of pure Neozone blood, it would <em>seal the deal</em>. It’d paint the false picture that a Neozone in charge would be nothing to fear. That even as the military razed down their precious cities, if a woman like you could accept this life, the citizens of Elyxion could fold into compliance without fear of being judged or harmed. All of that ironically wrong considering what you’ve been through.</p><p class="p1">This time, Mark stops the faded piano of Moonlight, the music you were actually supposed to hear, to whisper, “What the fuck.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m shocked,” you choke, not at all expecting this. “Can we use it?”</p><p class="p1">The plan floods into clarity with little explanation needed. Baekhyun had falsely turned coat when they’d taken his team, gone right to the capital to help his best friend. It’d been a stroke of luck that they’d sat down to record right at the time the Premier interrupted.Then Kyungsoo and Baekhyun put it on the CD, delayed production, and risked the fans’ wrath to ensure this evidence couldn’t get erased, that it was widespread.</p><p class="p1">Funny, they’d used to call Baekhyun the nation’s favorite singer. Every household in Dorado might’ve ordered one of these, and they’re all about to hear the Premier's confession. The two men have been on your side the whole time.</p><p class="p1">“Just because public sentiment swings one way doesn’t mean he’ll get a conviction,” Mark whispers sadly, sniffling as he thinks of how this has been a specific punishment for you, how they made you return against your wishes. How none of it was really his cousin’s fault.</p><p class="p1">Public sentiment. That’s it. That’s really all you need. The military and Security Ministry might not ever do anything, but the whole nation singing in harmony with the voice of a generation might be impossible to ignore.</p><p class="p1">“We need to get Doyoung on the phone ASAP,” you say as you search again through the bag for the Nokia, sure that this will be the one prong of your wild plan that won’t fail.</p><p class="p1">“What, why?”</p><p class="p1">“He’s already saved us once with this,” you explain as you tap the flash drive in the computer, the tiny device that had revealed so much, that Doyoung only gave to you because you were the most loyal person he knew. “We’ll need him to come through one more time. I’ll talk to him. I have an idea, again. Trust me?”</p><p class="p1">Mark smiles, lit up by the strong glow of the North Star, your guardian and Jeno’s smile all in one, and he nods. “Always.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>raise your hand if you saw any of that coming!</p><p>thank u for reading. xo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. tulipa gesneriana</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You’re not afraid to die, not anymore. You know what awaits you if you go.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>IMPORTANT! trigger warning: violence, blood, injuries, weapons, brief mentions of suicide (the wording for this is not explicitly graphic but be careful)</p><p>that being said i am so excited for you guys to experience this lol</p><p>if you want to have a little drama while reading, listen to: ghostin - ariana grande (www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z1pmpDRrQhU)<br/>if you want to have MAXIMUM drama while reading, listen to: Tchaikovsky - Swan Lake Finale (www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBqxw6I0aoY)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Even though it’s deep into November, you feel the cracks of sunburn against your cheeks when you crawl back through the window in the morning, tender skin burnt up by the sunrise. Yuta’s already awake and dressed, cup of coffee in hand as he waits at the table for you.</p><p class="p1">“Yu, sorry we slept out there—,” you start, before you realize the cup in his hand is decidedly not a coffee cup. You elbow Mark in the side next to you, and the three of you share the shyest grins, like you're teens again, as you ask, “What is that?”</p><p class="p1">In his hand is one of the paper cups that come free in the hotel bathroom, sure. But what you’d mistaken for a steam swirl from a vat of coffee is something more tangible. It’s the wispiest curl of sapphire blue, the tuft of color a hyacinth is known for.</p><p class="p1">“Slug's been gone for hours now. Should be on her way to Windyville now if they had no problems,” Yuta side steps your question first, before he can no longer keep the positively giddy grin off his face. He cradles the cup in his hand like it’s his child, and his following murmur is dreamy, “This, this was something she wanted to try.”</p><p class="p1">“I looked at both the Premier and VP’s schedule—, oh, sorry,” Ten appears and then disappears into the background when he walks into the touching scene, three old friends rejoicing over the fact one of them has found their true love.</p><p class="p1">Yuta’s fingers absentmindedly toy over the bare finger on his left hand as he explains quietly, “I didn’t have a ring, so I gave her my flower seed to watch over. Never thought it was something she or I wanted to do, so I never pressed. I love her, I know I do, that was enough.” He looks at you with his head in his hand, the exact same moony eyed boy who’d stared at her at Jaehyun’s party, and he sighs, “But Seulgi said that if this was the last time we saw each other, she wanted to go knowing she was my true love. So we did it, scraped up some dirt from outside and used the bottle of water in Sunny’s bag. Boom.”</p><p class="p1">This is revelatory. If Seulgi had a seed, it would’ve blossomed had Yuta cast the water upon it himself. For the entire region’s history, citizens were under the impression that this tradition would only be facilitated under the hands of two pureblooded Neozone citizens. But here is proof otherwise, proof you should’ve known. This had happened for Mark’s parents with a stolen seed. Your and Jaehyun’s flowers had both blossomed too, and neither of you were only from Neozone. Harmony. This is harmony.</p><p class="p1">You laugh, the first bubble of happiness you’ve felt in a long time, and you look over to first wipe a tear off of Mark’s smooth eyelid, next to bend forward and kiss Yuta on his cherry red cheek.</p><p class="p1">“Tell us, then, Ten,” Yuta instructs, back into business mode after allowing himself this one modicum of joy.</p><p class="p1">Ten, despite not understanding the intricacies of what he’s witnessed, appears moved by the sight. He takes a second to himself and then begins, “I’m pretty sure Jaehyun is at that same apartment complex. VP Jung’s been stopping by consistently since you were put into solitude, twelfth floor.You know how to get in, Kibum said the door will be open. Might want to check the other floors to see if Michael is still there, or was moved like we think.”</p><p class="p1">Doyoung texted as requested and said he was on the move when you had stirred awake in Mark’s hold. The parts are moving now. All you can do is hope they’ll assemble themselves in the necessary order to get you out of this.</p><p class="p1">Yuta addresses you all, pressing his hat down over his silver hair, cracking his neck in a menacing display of preparation, “We’re headed over to the residence now, but keep your phones on. If we’re wrong about anything we’ve got to be ready. This is a tight window of time.”</p><p class="p1">“Got it,” Mark confirms. Yuta stands up from the table to hug his oldest friend, the boy he used to protect, and Mark holds his hands out to stop him. You know he’s practicing manifestation, that optimism he’d chirped at you with on the balcony, “Ah, no goodbyes, not when we’ll see each other in a few hours. Love you forever, man.”</p><p class="p1">You, Yuta, Mark, together forever. Plus Ten, who deserves more than anything to be your friend in the life that follows.</p><p class="p1">After the two guards have left, you smash your computer, run water from the shower all over it, and toss it into the dumpster by the hotel. You tuck the flash drive into the pocket of your jeans, with all of the files from Baekhyun’s CD copied onto it. Together, you and Mark head back into city center. Keeping your faces downturned and the brims of your cap slung low, you intertwine your hands together, giving the illusion you’re a couple off for an early morning autumn stroll. But it’s really because you feel like you might dissipate in between the cracks in the sidewalk if you’re not anchored to Mark, terrified that Jaehyun won’t be there, that you’ll show up too late.</p><p class="p1">The matching high-rise buildings come into view, you navigate to the second in the row. You go through the bare trees as Ten had shown you — there are bare branches where there used to be foliage, a sign of the passing seasons. You toss Mark into the crack between the buildings first, physically shoving his body through the tight space constraining his broad frame, the concrete scraping at his chest and nose. The emergency exit is propped open, waiting for you as Ten promised. Your hand hasn’t left Mark’s once, even as you climb the water-marked concrete, twelve flights, even as he pushes open the unlocked door marked with a graffitied twelve across the width of it. Mark visibly recoils when he takes in the view of the empty corridor, the singular door in the middle of the space.</p><p class="p1">But it disappears into determination with his instruction to you, “I’ll search the other floors, text if I find something. Otherwise I’ll meet you back here.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t you think we should look together?”</p><p class="p1">“Splitting up will let us cover more in less time, I’ll check Dad’s floor first. Plus, I’ll let you and Jae have your little moment.”</p><p class="p1">Even after all of this, Mark knows how to get you good, to have you groaning and pressing your hand to your forehead in disbelief as you crow, “I hate you.” There’s no guarantee Jaehyun is inside — you can’t get your hopes up like this, no matter what Ten had hypothesized. It’s better to keep your expectations low, so that the devastation doesn’t burn you up as fiercely.</p><p class="p1">“You love me!” Mark giggles. “See you real soon, bee!”</p><p class="p1">When he disappears, you have to fight your inner monologue that yells at you, <em>you’re never going to see him again</em>. With a resigned sigh, there’s not much left to do but walk over to the lone apartment on this floor and press your ear right up against the door before you knock.</p><p class="p1">“Come, we have somewhere to be.” That might be Vice Premier Jung’s voice, you’re not too sure.</p><p class="p1">The fully sarcastic denial can’t come from anyone other than Jaehyun, its silvery timbre disguises the disgust, “Oh, so after trapping me in here like a dog this whole time, now you want me out and about in society. Thanks, but no thanks.”</p><p class="p1">Convinced, you test the door and find that it’s also unlocked, a morsel of light visible between the crack. With quick fingers at the knob and at the hinge, to quiet any creaks, you shift the door open to give you a small enough space to slip your head in. The room is a bit bigger than what Michael’s was, set up like a regular one bedroom apartment instead of a boxy studio. That means there’s a coat closet with its door unhinged right in your proximity. Light as a feather, you slide between the spaces and sandwich yourself in to take a secretive look.</p><p class="p1">Even in the shapeless grey sweats he’s wearing, Jaehyun comes across as princely as ever, expression stony in its defiance even with his unstyled, curly hair flopped in his face.</p><p class="p1">His passive distaste is a direct contrast to Mr. Jung’s simmering anger, the tension that’s coiled in his frame from top to bottom as he orders, “Jaehyun, please, I need you to stop all of this nonsense and come back to the family.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re my dad, you’re supposed to be happy for me no matter what. I find a person I want to spend the rest of my life with, and you hate her because she’s from the same place you are? Make it make sense to me, Dad!” Remaining calm in the face of confrontation, Jaehyun prods his father on to answer the harsh, honest question. This question has plagued you ever since the Regent at the time had come plowing into your house with no invitation.</p><p class="p1">“You have to understand what I went through! After we moved, Grandfather had no money. We lived in the outskirts of the city, and he sent me to public school. I endured years of harassment, abuse, and bullying, all because I was from Elyxion. When I was old enough for high school I begged to go to private school, changed my name, and totally reinvented my image when I got there.When we moved to the city for real, Grandfather changed himself, too, and no one was the wiser. They thought we were Neozone old money, and no one ever knew.”</p><p class="p1">Jefferson Jung, originally from Wolf Way, has this kind of origin story, huh? He’d been like the countless kids you met at school and college that received the unfair treatment based on their hometown location. But he hadn’t chosen to ignore it, like most of them did. He’d taken all of that and channeled it into fuel for his close friends’ violent plans of retaliation.</p><p class="p1">“What, so to sell it, you just decided to go all genocidal on your own people? You just let them take Sunny, like you didn’t even care that what she did was for you? Like you didn’t care that I loved her?!” Jaehyun’s voice cracks with the first sign of heartbreak, that he can’t believe his own father would let Sunny — his grandfather’s personal housekeeper — get taken for stealing a flower seed on his behalf. Something she only did because she cared for her master’s son, wanted to see him happy in his new home.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t you ever say I don’t care for you, Jeffrey,” Mr. Jung spits, using his full force of authority as a parent to bend Jaehyun to his will. “This was all for you. Only here could you live up to your full potential, have the resources to influence the world as you see fit. You could never be this great of a man if I’d raised you in Wolf Way!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s retort is instantaneous, bursting from the depths of his heart, “The two greatest people I know are from Elyxion! I am from Elyxion, whether you like it or not!”</p><p class="p1">You and Mark. Jaehyun means you and Mark.</p><p class="p1">“We are from Neozone!” Mr. Jung explodes. “I have never considered myself from Elyxion!”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, it’s obvious that you see yourself that way. Only someone from Neozone would take some cruel insults from kids who were raised to not know any better and hold the resentment until they’re an adult.” Jaehyun’s a better politician than all of them, he’s the very first to voice the sentiment of true change, “We need to fix how Neozone citizens behave, not punish Elyxion.”</p><p class="p1">Mr. Jung has gone off the rails, ranting and raving with full vitriol against the other region, “Elyxion isn’t worth anything to anyone! All it got me was a daily black eye and the worst trauma of my life!” He stalks up to Jaehyun and for a second you’re doused with fear that he’ll hit him again. But he only grabs his son’s shoulders to shake him and entreat, “They will be better off if Neozone takes control, no one will ever have to suffer like me again! A whole generation of kids will grow up as members of one region.”</p><p class="p1">It’s not exactly a lie, he’s deluded to believe this is the kind of life a Neozone-ruled Dorado would bring about. But you, and thankfully Jaehyun, know that this is a farce. Jaehyun runs a hand through his hair and laughs in disbelief, “Great, so your solution is to have their kids —<em>my </em>kids — continue to go through the exact same thing. Nice.” He shoves his father off him and points a finger in his face to accuse, “They will always get the worst of it, I’ve seen it for years. It happened in college, happened after, this will always happen unless we fix it!”</p><p class="p1">“Your kids will never have that problem,” Mr. Jung denies.</p><p class="p1">“You could beat me into keeping your hometown a secret forever, go ahead,” Jaehyun challenges, with narrowed eyes and the full strength of his stretched out frame towering over his father. “But I would never, ever ask my wife to hide that she’s from Tactix again, especially from our children. And I don’t think you could ever make her.”</p><p class="p1">You must slip into a parallel universe in your eavesdropping. You have one thought, that whoever Jaehyun’s wife is lucky that he’d defend her and their future children in this fervent manner. But the mention of Tactix is a sobering reminder that his wife - not in name but in spirit - is you, and the children he’s referencing are the ones he hopes to share with you someday. He is too much, and you’re too much, for smiling like this in the middle of a fight.</p><p class="p1">“You are not married to her!” Mr. Jung spits, his rage intensifying into a passionate, scary display at the mention of you. “We are marrying you to a true Neozone woman, and that’s it! I don’t care what Kyungho thinks!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun has the trump card in his hand, and deploys it easily, his lazy, arrogant smile spreading over his face as he leans forward and proclaims, “But you know she’s my <em>true</em> <em>love</em>. That means more than anything and you know there’s nothing you can do about it.”</p><p class="p1">“She will be the first to go, I will make sure of it. That bastard son will be next,” Mr. Jung threatens you and Kyungsoo in succession, but Jaehyun doesn’t care.</p><p class="p1">He only chuckles darkly as he shakes his head and taunts, “I can’t believe you. The great Vice Premier Jefferson Jung, afraid of a couple kids. Pathetic.”</p><p class="p1">“I can make you Premier, I’ll do it!”</p><p class="p1">“You’re crazy, Dad,” Jaehyun states, no longer willing to engage in this comedy, “thanks for finally getting it into my head.”</p><p class="p1">VP Jung tries to take it to a personal level, to threaten his son directly rather than those around him with his harsh, “I was generous with you so far, let you keep your phone and your computer, gave you a nice place to stay in. But I won’t be so generous this time. If you don’t come with me now, I will be handing you over to the Security Ministry for them to punish you as they see fit.”</p><p class="p1">But Jaehyun remains unfazed, severing himself from the bonds of his bloodline, ripping out the stitches tying him to his father as he says, “Great, I hope they take their sweet time with me so I never have to see you again. It would be a pleasure to not be your son.”</p><p class="p1">Realizing he’s getting nowhere with his child, Vice Premier Jung blusters in place for a few seconds. He sputters and stamps his feet as he combs his repository for more threats to level Jaehyun’s defensive stand. But perhaps he finally realizes he will never be able to make Jaehyun budge again after this. That he’d been able to manipulate him while he was alone, use his worst fears and feelings against him, but Jaehyun will never truly be alone again.</p><p class="p1">As direct proof, when Mr. Jung goes storming away through the door, you come tumbling out of the closet, light on your feet as you float over to the living room, to look upon your true love once again.</p><p class="p1">“Jae.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun spins around from where he was slumped with his hands on the boudoir, nearly tripping over himself when he sees you there. A thousand different emotions war over his face, relief, excitement, horror, fear, joy, all manifesting in his broken, disbelieving, yet wondrous, “H-how? Did you hear all of that?”</p><p class="p1">You nod, tiny and quick. “Yeah.”</p><p class="p1">His face drops back over the furniture, in a haggard exhale of secondhand pain he’d inflicted upon you, “Sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t be,” you soothe, unable to resist the molecule of flirtation that you can’t help around him, “really saved it at the end with the kids line.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun lifts his head up again to really, truly look at you - in the grungy black sweats that match his grey ones, with a lock of hair falling out of your cap, your watery eyes alight with the sight of him. You swore to him you’d save your family first, and yes, you mean Michael and Mark, Yuta and the others. But Jaehyun is the kind of family they could never be to you. He gives you the promise of having a family to call only your own. You’re selfish enough to want that for yourself, too.</p><p class="p1">At that moment, the Nokia pings, and you scramble to see the message.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">[8:31 am] <strong>bumbLEE:</strong> Still on sixth floor. Hurry.</p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">“Come on, we gotta go,” you beckon him forth by holding out your hand, “It’s Michael.”</p><p class="p1">The sixth floor was where they held Michael before in the times you saw him, he has to be here. You won't fault Ten for being wrong about this. Jaehyun grabs your hand, a healing burst of antidote against your skin, and together you jog out of the room to the stairwell. He counts out loud as you go, a note of melody from his lips on each flight down, <em>one, two, three, four, five, six</em>. He’s corny enough to insist on opening the door for you like the gentleman he is when you’re prepared to smash it open yourself.</p><p class="p1">But both of your steps stagger in place when you stumble into the hallway and see the stream of light coming from the lone door, left wide open. In a panic, your hand breaks from his as you go careening through the space with abandon, emerging through the door with no semblance of hesitation to discover what’s happened to Michael.</p><p class="p1">Only to be met with Mark’s turned back as he pounds against the door of the bathroom inside, calling loudly, “Come on, cuz! We gotta go, now!”</p><p class="p1">You glance around. The studio is a mess, papers, pillows, blankets strewn everywhere, plates and cups cracked haphazardly on the floor. It looks like someone’s razed through this place with a cyclone, like the Special Forces have somehow been here and you’ve narrowly avoided them. But the way Mark had structured his plea did not seem like he was calling for his father.</p><p class="p1">“What’s going on—,” Jaehyun starts to mutter right as Mark shouts again, “Kyungsoo, open the door! What are you doing, just open the fucking door!”</p><p class="p1">Sorry, did he say Kyungsoo?</p><p class="p1">You’re not entirely sure you haven’t said that aloud, because at the thought, Mark finally whirls around to see the pair of you there, face crumpling in relief specifically at the sight of you. He races over to grab your hand, to start pulling you over to the bathroom as his mouth moves a mile a minute, “I don’t know what the hell is going on, I walked in and he just started going nuts. He was throwing shit and yelling about the moon and then locked himself in there!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun’s brow furrows. “The moon?”</p><p class="p1">“Luna means moon in like Spanish, right?”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s innocent question is an arrow shot straight and true to the bullseye of your heart. You’ve never mentioned her name to either of them before, they wouldn’t understand why you react so violently, why the tears brew in your eyes in an instant. Why your whole body trembles as you turn to Jaehyun to command,“Jae, break the door!” He hesitates, looking to Mark for approval, and you scream at him, “Break it!”</p><p class="p1">Still unconvinced but willing to help you all the same, Jaehyun motions for you two to move away. With the full brute strength of his body that he’d used once upon a time to save you, he kicks down the wood like it’s nothing but flimsy plastic. The punishing blow will surely alert the remaining guards to your presence, so you don’t have much time now.</p><p class="p1">You cough violently as the dust settles, revealing a harrowing image of Kyungsoo huddled in the back of the shower, water turned on to a punishingly high degree, the steam pouring out into the tiled space. The stain of the ricocheting droplets have begun to spread across the white of his button-down, in an eerie parallel to the way the blood had spread from his mother’s lips. You’re overcome with fear on his behalf. He doesn’t have anything that could be considered a weapon within his reach, but still, you’re afraid.</p><p class="p1">Stepping forward from between the two men, you hold out your hands to not spook him. “Kyungsoo. Whatever you’re going to do. Don’t.”</p><p class="p1">“I did all of this,” he mutters, scrunching his hand against his head in his suffering.</p><p class="p1">“You didn’t do anything, I heard what was on the CD. None of it was you.”</p><p class="p1">“I deserve whatever punishment they’re going to give me, for being his son, for doing whatever he wanted me to do.”</p><p class="p1">You have no idea how to deal with the situation, the nervous glances that the boys exchange with you when you glance over your shoulder tell you they feel the same. But you know you’re no longer mad at Kyungsoo. How could you be mad at him, he’s your not-boyfriend, not-fiancé, not-husband. You need to help in any way you can think of.</p><p class="p1">You climb onto the edge of the tub, steaming water nearly scalding you through your clothes, and have to shout to get him to hear, “I think it’s pretty clear that you are innocent in this!” Your fingers tiptoe over to the handle of the faucet, and twist the flow shut. Now that the waterfall isn’t roaring, you can use a pleading, dulcet tone to coax him away from the wall, “The whole nation is going to hear what’s on the CD. Is that why Baekhyun came to the capital? Because you asked him to help you?”</p><p class="p1">“None of that matters, I still deserve it,” Kyungsoo repeats, turning to the side so he doesn’t have to make eye contact with you.</p><p class="p1">But he didn’t deny it. He’s validated your theory that he and Baekhyun conspired the whole time, pretended to play loyal to Neozone and Pandora. Prepared the extra track on the album, uncovering how Premier Kim had threatened Kyungsoo with the memory of his dead fiancée to get him to rein you in under their hand. A threat, now upon reflecting, had been a direct parallel to what Jaehyun had been through with his own father.</p><p class="p1">“It matters!” You hope he’s craving validation, you’ll give it all to him, “You had the first piece of evidence it was him, everyone is going to know because of you.”</p><p class="p1">But Kyungsoo doesn’t need to be validated, he buries his head in his hands, broken beyond repair, choked gasps barely escaping the self-enclosure of his arms, “I was a coward, I let him ruin your life, and Luna’s… everything I touch is destroyed… both of you, you both were ruined…” He peers up at you behind the curtain of his fingers, his beautiful charcoal eyes clouded with grief, as he whispers, “Luna… he killed her…. And you…”</p><p class="p1">“Hey, I’m still here. Nothing about me is ruined.” You smile despite the severity of the situation, to show him that you’re okay. <em>Because of you. Nothing about me is ruined because of you. </em>Kyungsoo had sewed you back together, stitch by stitch, it was all his work and his work only. He’d been there for you when you’d let no one else in.</p><p class="p1">“I can hear them, they’re in the stairwell. Second floor, maybe, they’re checking each one,” Jaehyun’s quiet voice echoes from in the room, where he’s left to scope out the hallway.</p><p class="p1">Fuck.</p><p class="p1">Mark is beside you in a flash, legs pressed against the tub as he leans forward, trying to reach Kyungsoo who scoots out of range of his grasp, “We need to go, dude. We’re going to get him today, and we need your help. You know more than all of us.” He stretches past you again to grab his friend, as the other man fights trying to wrench his arm out of Mark’s proximity. Mark tries one more time, “You’re my cousin, man, we’re family, it can’t end this way.”</p><p class="p1">“I can’t….” Kyungsoo’s deep voice breaks with pain, he blinks and there’s a flock of tears flying across his skin, “I’m his son… they’re going to look at me and see the exact same thing, a cruel Neozone bastard… I’m his son.”</p><p class="p1">“We’ve got to leave, now!”</p><p class="p1">“Please don’t…” Kyungsoo moans, hands flying to cover his ears at Mark’s bellow.</p><p class="p1">“Soo, please, do it for me,” you beg, tears overflowing in sympathy as you watch his reaction, taking the alternate route to Mark’s brash order. You have to tell him once that you owe your life to him, you would’ve gone to meet Jeno if you were left alone, if you hadn’t been blessed enough to have Kyungsoo come back to Neozone that day. “I don’t blame you for anything. You saved me, it was you. All the way back then, it was you.”</p><p class="p1">“Come on,” Mark yells.</p><p class="p1">“Stop it!”</p><p class="p1">“Guys, it’s getting louder,” Jaehyun warns, he’s halfway in the door to the bathroom now, keeping a mindful eye out both on the situation and on you.</p><p class="p1">You climb into the tub, soaking your clothes with the pooled water and you cradle Kyungsoo’s face, his handsome, solemn face you kissed many a time, and you beg, “Soo, please, please come with us!”He looks away, fights to escape your hold, and in your desperation, you blurt the first thing you think of, “Kyungah’s gone, Soo, he killed her too!”</p><p class="p1">“Bee!” Mark hisses, thinking you’ve crossed a line with your harsh reveal of his mother’s death.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s eyes dart to yours, black of his irises glimmering in incredulity. You even hear the gasp slip from his lips, <em>no.</em>It breaks your heart to have to shake him like this, to raise your voice to get him to understand this is of utmost importance, “It’s the truth! You cannot stand aside and let him win!”</p><p class="p1">“Kyungsoo, the four of us are the same.”</p><p class="p1">All three of you whip around, not at all expecting the entreaty from Jaehyun. These two men are rivals in all sense of the word, had ground each other to dust in their dislike and misunderstanding, have never had a pleasant interaction with each other.</p><p class="p1">But Jaehyun looks to Kyungsoo with kindness in his amber eyes, rubbing a nervous hand against the expanse of his chest, before he glances to Mark, then to you, and says, “The Premier’s son, two sons of two Vice Premiers, the Icon of Neozone, we’re all the same. Half Neozone, Half Elyxion. The very best this nation has to offer, and that’s what they need to see. We can’t do it without you.” He’s already preached an infinity of beautifully true sentiment, but still, Jaehyun smiles, closelipped and crooked and filled with remembrance, then pleads, heartfelt,“No would want you to do it with us. I know he loved you, he loved everyone.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is right. He always is. This is the image the nation needs to be built up off of, not one of marriage or brute strength or picking sides. It’s one of camaraderie and acceptance, with the appreciation that you’re sewn out of the same threads, no matter where you’re from. And if that wasn’t enough, who could ever say no to Jeno?</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo blows a heavy breath out and acquiesces, “Okay, okay. I’ll come…”</p><p class="p1">Your head bows in relief.</p><p class="p1">Mark helps you out of the tub, careful to keep you from slipping against the slick tile, as Kyungsoo gingerly steps away from the mess he’s created to grab his discarded suit jacket. He even shoots Jaehyun an appreciative expression when the other man taps him on the arm in recognition.</p><p class="p1">“Baekhyun?” you ask as you start to break for the door. You haven’t heard a whisper from the man beyond his voice in <em>Moonlight</em>.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo shakes his head only once, eyes grim, “He was trying to help you two, but the guards he tricked spilled it all. They took him somewhere, I don’t know, I’ve been here since then, too. I only managed to come by to give you the CD after a meeting I was required to attend.”</p><p class="p1">You and Jaehyun share a very harrowed look with each other, knowing that it was because of the singer’s deception you were able to have that last moment with each other. But you can’t dwell on what danger Baekhyun might be in, where he might be, because when the four of you hurry out of the exit onto the sixth floor, you’re met with the loudly audible sound of a group running up the emergency stairwell.</p><p class="p1">“They’re coming!” Mark exclaims, and you grab at Jaehyun out of instinct. You have only seconds before they burst through to check the sixth floor, seconds until they find you here. What the hell do you do?</p><p class="p1">“Go without me,” Kyungsoo murmurs, and none of you move at the command. He forcefully shoves you all in the opposite direction and raises his voice to repeat, “Go! Take the elevator!”</p><p class="p1">Mark comprehends what he’s saying, that the lobby is probably unattended as the gathered security has left on a wild goose chase through the apartment complex after they heard the door break. This is your best chance to escape. But you can’t leave Kyungsoo.</p><p class="p1">You grab his arm and deny the command, “No, come with us!”</p><p class="p1">“They need to see me here, otherwise they’ll stop looking and trap you! I’ll hold them off!” It looks like Kyungsoo is physically flagellating himself when he pries your arm off of him and sends you stumbling into Jaehyun’s arms. Mark starts to run, you hear the pitter of his feet, the pressure of Jaehyun’s fingers around your arm as he tries to bring you along. But as you go, you can only keep your eyes honed in on Kyungsoo and his pink, heart-shaped lips, the wild symbolism of his pretty heart painted up on his face. The features that are folding with agony to urge you along, “Go!”</p><p class="p1">“Soo!” you yell, one last desperate cry to get him to join you, but it’s snatched up by the closing doors of the elevator. Jaehyun catches you as you go crashing into the handrail, hugging you tightly as you begin to bang desperately on the doors to get the metal box to stop, to give Kyungsoo enough time to come as he’d promised.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, fuck!” Mark curses as soon as you begin to descend, “What do we do? Do we go back?!”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, it’s me.”</p><p class="p1">The sound has burst through your watch instead of your phone, but you answer in a second, “Yu! I’m here!”</p><p class="p1">But you’ve recognized the voice wrong, there’s no princely tone as the response reverberates through the tiny space, “It’s Ten. Nine fifteen, Pandora Building. I’ll meet you there.”</p><p class="p1">Mark pushes aside Jaehyun to grab your wrist, scream into the watch, “Do you have Dad?! Ten, do you have Dad!” There’s the garbled start of a syllable of an answer, not enough to confirm if it’s a yes or a no, and he curses again, “What the fuck!”</p><p class="p1">The fact there was no information on Michael’s status was already a blow, but Ten had struck fear right into all of you with what he did know. Nine fifteen, Pandora Building. It’d end where it began.</p><p class="p1">“We’ll get there first, try to stop it,” you say to convince him, to convince yourself, wanting to reassure Mark but much more distracted with finding your phone so you can message Doyoung with a change in your plans.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun grabs Mark, pulls him into his chest with you beside him, hugging the two of you with all the fierce love he holds. He murmurs against your hair but the message is all for his best friend, “Marco, they’ve got your pops. They’ve got him.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is the sweetest boy for saying something like that, because you all know it’s not true.</p><p class="p1"><br/>
—</p><p class="p1"><br/>
After the apparent announcement there would be a surprise, public speech made to the nation, the bowels of the Pandora Building have been opened to spectators, who are all eager to catch a glimpse of the Premier. It’s a slip up that allows you the perfect entrance into the building, able to walk up the front steps as part of a faceless crowd rather than devise yet another scheme to somehow slip three fugitives in between heavy guard control. You’re earning your fair share of dirty looks from the crowd members you’re elbowing in your haste, but you have to get through, you need to be somewhere specific for this plan to work. There are huge tapestries hung from the walls with the news reports already blasting, so that those who don’t make it inside the building will be able to watch the speech for themselves.</p><p class="p1">“It’s nine ten, we have to hurry!” Mark urges as he slaps you on the back to pick up your pace. You, him, and Jaehyun link in a chain to move as a unit through the space.</p><p class="p1">“What did you guys do?!” Jaehyun hollers, unaware of the planning it took to get to this point.</p><p class="p1">Mark shoots him a wicked grin over his shoulder, like you’re off to play a Halloween prank on someone. “It’s a bottom of the ninth, pinch hitter on your last strike, need a grand slam for a walk-off win plan!”</p><p class="p1">“My idea, not the metaphor,” you clarify, embarrassed yet not at Mark’s over the top comparison. He bares his teeth in a displeased growl, clearly thinking you would’ve loved the joke, and you do the same.</p><p class="p1">“Oh god, guys, I’m not ready,” Jaehyun groans, knowing exactly what that means, before his vision snaps to a spot past your shoulder. His mouth opens and closes, then he coughs, “S-Seulgi?”</p><p class="p1">There’s a shit ton of people clamoring for entrance, there’s a high chance he could’ve mistaken a civilian for her. But when you turn to glance at the exact spot Jaehyun’s still staring at, you indeed see a familiar brunette ponytail cutting through the crowd, Seulgi struggling with all her might to reach you from across the way. Jaehyun reaches through the space, impervious with his strength, and she grabs his hand so he can literally pull her over to where you are.</p><p class="p1">“What are you doing, you’re not supposed to be here!” you gasp, letting go of Jaehyun to take her hand instead and nestle her in the middle of the group.</p><p class="p1">“All of the military is heading right to the capital, you could see it from Heaven’s Highway!”</p><p class="p1">You stop your shoving to come to a halt in the middle of the space, eliciting a few pissed off exclamations from the citizens who have to side step you. You’d assumed, perhaps wrongly, that beyond the Special Forces, there wouldn’t be a display of military power here, that they’d concentrate it at the border. But you can see it now - the announcement of a single Neozone, and the troops going door to door checking bloodlines and tearing families apart.</p><p class="p1">“Neozone?” Mark asks, afraid to know the answer.</p><p class="p1">Seulgi shrugs, head shaking back and forth, “No idea. I couldn’t see any flags, black or navy.”</p><p class="p1">“Our parents,” you murmur, realizing she’s there alone. You grab her shoulder, desperate, “Seulgi, our parents?”</p><p class="p1">“Hyungsik and Suho are driving them to Windyville right now. I came as fast as I could,” she confirms the safety of your and Mark’s relatives. While you do idly hope that Jaehyun’s mother is safe, all thoughts otherwise blow out your mind when Seulgi pulls out a handgun from her bag and surreptitiously passes it over to Mark.</p><p class="p1">His eyes go wide at the sight of the weapon. He quickly stows it away in his pocket before anyone can see, hissing, “What is this for!” Your eyes flutter closed with exhaustion, only for a second. This will never end without violence. It is the most devastating thought to have, that in any other world, you would all be twenty-five year olds with office jobs, unable to even get <em>access</em> to a gun, let alone need to have it by your side to defend yourself.</p><p class="p1">“You know what it’s for!” Seulgi hisses back, having the exact same thought, before she exclaims, “Y/n, what are you doing!”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even realize what you’re doing yourself until you see that you’ve moved halfway up the set of stairs without them, having bolted away in the midst of your thinking. You need to make it so Mark will never have to use that gun. You’ll do it yourself.</p><p class="p1">“Call Ten, wait for him!” you shout over your shoulder, picking up your pace so they won’t be able to catch up, “I’ll come find you!”</p><p class="p1">It’s easier to move through the space as one human instead of a group of four. You pass guard after guard after guard, but with the fracas and your cap hiding your face, you make it deep into the open atrium of the entryway without being noticed. You take that uncoiling anxiety — like thread spilling from a spool you’ve dropped, all that fear and pain that threatens to take over at being here where Jeno left you — and you tuck it into your heart, knowing you only have moments to wait until you unleash it for the final time.</p><p class="p1">You had no opportunity to look this up on a map before getting here, but it’s like your subconscious takes over, filling in the hazy memories from when you were brought out in the arms of a Pandora guard because they couldn’t fit a gurney up the stairs. You remember exactly which concealed staircase to take, behind the statue of the first leader of Neozone, and from there it’s easy. You take the stairs at a heartbeat’s pace, wild as you fly to the very apex of the flights, landing in the small, dusty corridor that you previously never knew of.</p><p class="p1">It still reeks of construction in here. You know this small side entrance wasn’t the pristine one they showed in all the news reports, their innocent voices twirling in a huge lie, <em>We didn’t even know this part of the building existed. It has been sealed off to prevent something like this from happening again. </em>But as you’ve discovered to be the case in all government matters, they’d left the accompanying entrance on the other side a mess, you can still see the cracks in the drywall they’d moulded over. It’s not even well sealed, you can slip your fingers in between the dry material and tear it away, push open the secret door that they’d carried you through.</p><p class="p1">“Took you long enough.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t allow yourself to focus on any of the space you recognize, because Doyoung has already done as you asked and set up a plethora of blinding lights that completely obscure anything other than him. When he looks up from his to see you and smiles, you don’t feel quite so terrible.</p><p class="p1">As he fiddles with the press badge around his neck, what allowed him to slip up here without suspicion, you run over to him and squeeze his arm in gratitude as you say, “I have never been so happy to see you before.”</p><p class="p1">He chuckles and warns you jokingly, “Do NOT tell Joy I ditched her family Thanksgiving for this. She’ll never forgive me.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m loyal, remember?” you quip as you peel off your jacket to straighten out your t-shirt, remove your cap to comb your fingers through your hair. It’s not much in the way of getting glam, but you have to look presentable.</p><p class="p1">Out of your peripheral vision, Doyoung’s face falls as he contemplates his father’s role in all of this, what you recounted to him over the phone as you asked him for his help. “I’m sorry, I never knew….”</p><p class="p1">You channel your best impression of Mark’s falsely positive attitude and you wave it off, “Buy me a drink after, okay? It’s showtime.”</p><p class="p1">Once he places the video camera on the tripod, both of you slump side by side on the floor, his phone blasting with the breaking news jingle that is a harbinger of sure doom. When the news reporter’s scarred cheek makes its way onto the screen, your body transcends itself into a state of acceptance, that there’s no turning back now.</p><p class="p1">“This is Siwon Choi with Breaking 127. We take you live to the assembly room of the Pandora Building, where Premier Kim has just called for a special address to the nation.”</p><p class="p1">The image cuts to the solemn and imposing space, totally empty save for Premier Kim at the head of the room in his military regalia, flanked by Taeyeon on his right in her sleek black gown, and Vice Premier Jung on his left in his finest suit.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim raises his hands like a preacher to his congregation, like a father to his children, and uses a booming tone to begin, “Citizens of Dorado, young and old, I come to you to with a heavy heart to discuss some serious matters concerning the state of the nation.Two days ago, a summer home in Seventh Settlement was bombed, and thirty-six individuals were killed. This was a suicide mission perpetrated by Regent Oh and his family, to inflict suffering against the citizens of Neozone. Additionally, an attempt on my life was made by a woman from the organization known as Exordium, which exists solely to prop up Elyxion as an independent nation.”</p><p class="p1">Doyoung’s shocked exhale harmonizes with the gasps of horror that are loudly audible through the screen, echoing against the closed doors of the assembly room from the crowd behind it. You don’t react, because you already knew they were going to do this.</p><p class="p1">What you’re not at all prepared for is what comes next.</p><p class="p1">“But that is not all. This morning, we were horrified to find that former Vice Premier Michael Lee was found dead in his confinement here, having slit his throat with a concealed knife. We believe this was done because he was a willing conspirator in Dohun Oh’s plot, and did not want to face the consequences for his actions.”</p><p class="p1">No, no. Is that why Ten didn’t answer if you asked if he had Michael? They’d killed him and framed it as a suicide, just as Seulgi said they would? No, this can’t be, Ten and Yuta had to have gotten there in time. Ten wasn’t crying on the call, he would’ve been crying if they found Michael dead, he had to have been.</p><p class="p1">See? Doyoung is already crying, crystal tears all over his face as he asks, “Y/n, is… is that real?”</p><p class="p1">You’re totally blank, numb, devoid of any feeling, “I—,”</p><p class="p1">“Michael Lee is dead,” Premier Kim seemingly confirms with his blunt statement, “Dohun Oh is dead, but this is no justice for my home region.”</p><p class="p1">He steps away from the podium, but you know he’s not done at all. You nudge Doyoung in the side, loathe to make him work when his emotional state is so fragile, but you’re almost there. He nods and stands, helping you up to get into position. While you do this, Premier Kim is confidently strolling to the very center of the room, into a part of the floor tiling that is framed in a perfect circle of golden light, like the heavens have personally chosen to anoint him in this manner. He faces the camera, proud smile done up high upon his face, green and gold of his uniform sparkling in a nefarious shine.</p><p class="p1">Then, he speaks again, and does not stop,</p><p class="p1">“Neozone is my home, it is the land that has shaped who I am, built from the vessels of my bloodline. Yes, it is true, the same blood that flowed through the godly presence of our revered warrior, Taeyong Lee, runs through me. My grandfather kept us a secret, not because of his shame, but in his hope that we remained unharmed to fulfill his legacy. That is what has brought me to this point, to achieve the goal that he’d worked for his whole life.</p><p class="p1">“From this day forth, Dorado will no longer encompass separated regions Elyxion and Neozone. The entity known as Elyxion will cease to exist from this point forward. Our military force is prepared at the border, awaiting the call to cross the demarcation line and re-claim the territories that should rightfully be ours. Those who have crossed the border into our region illegally will be brought back to their homes by the Pandora Special Forces.</p><p class="p1">"We will assimilate all peoples under the Neozone name and we shall live and work in harmony, as Neozone citizens. It will be my life’s work to boost the status of our nation, of our own heritage and legacies. When I go to meet my great ancestors, my son, Kyungsoo, will become the next Premier and carry out the duties himself. If we are met with any measure of resistance, we are prepared to escalate into a declaration of war. And we will not stop this time. The Mad City Rebellion will be looked to as a shining example of mercy when I am through.”</p><p class="p1">Doyoung’s tears have only doubled as he hears the details of the plan you’d told him the skeleton details of, horrified that the nation has fallen to this point. But there is not a single fucking tear in your eye. Your anger has boiled them all away, flame roaring hot as that repressed anxiety, grief, and horror blazes lightning fast up the length of your spine, one final reminder of what they’ve done to you, to all of you.</p><p class="p1">“To Neozone, to her health and prosperity,” Premier Kim proclaims, sweaty and shiny and breathless with his impending victory, “and may her sons stand proud for an eternity to come.”</p><p class="p1">Doyoung signals silently with his fingers, <em>three, two, one,</em> and the red light at the bottom of his camera flashes red. You sneak a peek at his phone propped up in his hand - the breaking news icon of the news report flashes for one second more before the feed cuts away to complete blackness. Even all the way up here, you hear the hushed, confused clamoring of the onlookers as they wonder what’s going on.</p><p class="p1">The blackness cuts to an image of your face.</p><p class="p1">You raise your head, proudly defiant, no longer scared, and you look into the video camera. Once your worst fear to do so, you don’t have a single morsel of terror remaining in your body. It’s your turn now.</p><p class="p1">“My name is y/f/n y/l/n, I am twenty-five. I am the seamstress to Vice Premier Michael Lee and his family, the proud daughter of a mother from Tactix and a father from Neozone. The real truth of what’s happening in Dorado must be told.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not reading off a teleprompter or a written card or anything tangible. This speech is burned, word by word, into the recesses of your long-term memory. You’re taking your cues from Jeno, how he’d been the image of princely resistance the last time they made him say these words, and you hope you’re making him proud. Doyoung flips a switch on the camera, and you see the way your face dissolves into a grainy, grey, yet clearly unmistakeable security feed. He must’ve spent all night chopping up the parts of this video into a proper narrative flow - not leaving out details or manipulating them, but condensing them into the most gut-punching arrangement of guilt.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>At least we won’t have to deal with those pompous assholes once they’re crushed. I wish it was already like that.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Those sons of bitches have been wasting time since the Mad City Rebellion. Can’t deal with the fact they lost.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>We will achieve our goal in having a true Dorado, formed by the great region of Neozone and only Neozone. We will dilute the Elyxion blood in this nation into nothingness. They will fall in line or be crushed.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">They’d been too arrogantly tongue-in-cheek with the next line that you recite, “It has been far too long that the wool has been pulled over the eyes of our citizens, since we’ve been forced to acknowledge the realities of the life we’re all living in.”<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Declaring war is the only way.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>He tried to fight me on their behalf after that huge winter storm, made such a scene that I had to bow to that Elyxion Regent’s demands. Got deeper in it the next time, had someone leave him out in the woods to miss the vote but somehow they found him. Involving his son will break Michael, for sure. </em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>I am still deciding whether we frame it as a random kidnapping, or blame someone such as that middling Regent Oh.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>I have always supported the cause, ever since we met you when we were in college. In fact, did we all forget the one who secured Michael Lee’s wife that night?</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">“I come to you on this broadcast with an earnest plea,” you raise your hands, much like Premier Kim had done, only this time it’s a plea for allyship, it’s a baring of your scars to the nation, “speaking on behalf of my sisters and brothers in both noble regions.”<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>You will get that Elyxion bitch out of the city. Ignore her, treat her like dirt, force her to relive that boy’s death, I don’t care how. Do it or watch her get led away in handcuffs. Or a body bag.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>How do you think that cute little house in Neozone would fare after a bombing? Would be a shame if that hill was flattened like the classroom at XM.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Two half breeds, shedding their identities to become proper Neozone citizens. Get it done.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">You are no longer affected by the personal nature of the last set of clips. They can’t inflict any damage on you any more. You’ve done your tribulations of suffering, have emerged the other end a better woman. You beseech those listening to give your words fair weight with the final, concluding line that you had once been so stupefied by, taking great caution to use the proper name of the nation that had raised you,</p><p class="p1">“Citizens of this nation, of noble, noble <em>Dorado,</em> I know you’re watching right now. And you know what they want, so are you going to give it to them, as we approach the anniversary of our nation’s founding?”<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Premier Park died of natural causes, he was old! </em>
    <em>Right, no one would think to check that an extra concentrated dose of chrysanthemum toxin would have made its way into Premier Park’s tea.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">The final reveal of the late Premier’s untimely demise at the hands of his successor is the final clip you provided for Doyoung. It’s all up to you now, to carry this message home for the preservation of everything you hold dear,</p><p class="p1">“Or will you look to me as a shining example of what our nation should have been striving towards? I’ve already said that I am a girl who has a mother from Elyxion and a father from Neozone.But Michael Lee’s son, my best friend Mark, is the same. His mother is a proud woman from Oasis, just like Regent Oh, her brother, was. My husband Jaehyun, the son of your esteemed Vice Premier Jefferson Jung, is a product of our two regions as well, as his father was <em>born in Wolf Way.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Doyoung exclaims in surprise, not expecting that at all. From his phone, where the news report has been rolling a camera on the officials’ reactions to the surprise interruption, Mr. Jung’s embarrassment and rage is boiling over on his face, his comrades have glanced to him in abject shock that he’s kept this secret for so long as well. Premier Kim signals, in a heavy moment of irony, and the nearest guards jump into action. They run up to Mr. Jung and restrain him immediately as he begins to protest. The guards have to wrestle him out of the room with much effort as he roars in his struggle, biting and punching and clawing in an attempt to escape. An extra pair of soldiers has to join in as the older man attempts to pull something metal looking from out of his suit jacket.</p><p class="p1">But you cannot spare another hint of attention to him, because it is imperative you say what is next,</p><p class="p1">“And our great Premier’s son, who’s been brought forth as a shining example of a pure blooded Neozone man, is the son of Elyxion’s proudest daughter. He is the son of the leader of Exordium, a group that exists only to bring about equality.”</p><p class="p1">They’ve been arrested from motion by the drama of it all, but this spurs them into action.First, they all shoot their attention right to their leader — a volcano bustling to blow with outrage — crippled by even further bewilderment that he once had a liaison with who they would deem a lower class citizen. Then, Premier Kim explodes off the podium, bolting from the assembly room as fast as he can. His cronies follow behind him, disappearing off the screen as the camera crew races to keep up.</p><p class="p1">You give your greatest thanks to Jaehyun, who provided you with your perfect concluding statement. “We’re all the same people. Half Neozone, half Elyxion, it doesn’t matter how we’re made up. It should never have mattered. We are the very best this nation has to offer."Though you’re shrouded in the light and there’s no way they can find you here right away, you race to finish, “The raison d'être our beloved, late Premier Park gave his life for was this exactly, to have one Dorado united under peaceful camaraderie. Will you honor him and end the injustice that runs rampant across the land?”</p><p class="p1">This is a problem that has to be rooted out from the dirt, pried out of the ground strand by strand. The toxic grip it has over the earth needs to be eliminated forever. It starts at the beginning, with children who have parents that love them and teach them to love all others. They can continue on that circle of life when it is their turn. The questions, all rhetorical, come barreling into your heart as you take the entire nation to task, to contemplate the way it’s behaved in the time you’ve been alive. Like a struggling bloom that needs a good weeding. Like a hole in a sock, that requires some stitching. </p><p class="p1">“Children of Elyxion, will you allow yourselves to give up your heritage for traditions you don’t care about, keep falsely reassuring your children that they will not be judged when they always will be? Neozone patriots, will you continue to teach your children to judge based on the side of a border you were born on? Let your divine beliefs get twisted and bastardized into blasphemous forms that do more harm than good?</p><p class="p1">"Citizens of Dorado. If our Premier declares war, will you take this lying down? Will you continue to let misogyny, prejudice, and ill-will sow the soil of our land? Will you send your sons out to fight a battle that will only lead to more suffering for all, that will end in tragedy and horror and victory spoils for only a few? Would you allow them to kill a boy you called your brother? Would you allow them to murder a father that you loved?”</p><p class="p1">“Murder? That’s news to me.”</p><p class="p1">Your heart is a light petal caught by a beautiful spring breeze as you turn around at the sound of that familiar, loving voice. You know it’s him but you gasp it anyways, “Michael.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s father is standing in the middle of your group of friends, unharmed save for the mess of his hair, diamond tear in his eye as he gazes upon you from where he’s standing. There’s not a single scratch on him, nothing, nothing at all. The gleam of Mark’s blonde hair is behind him, and Ten is to his right, similarly unscathed beyond the lingering bruise of his broken nose.</p><p class="p1">But when you look over to confirm Jaehyun’s okay, you catch that he and Michael are propping someone up between their frames, “Yuta!”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n, we’re still on camera!” Doyoung calls, after you’ve taken off to run right to them.</p><p class="p1">You wave behind your back for him to stand down, “Not now!”</p><p class="p1">Yuta has his hand pressed so tightly to his neck all of his fingers have gone white with the effort, a mass of his removed undershirt visible underneath, bowing under the pressure of the red blood churning out from a wound on his neck. “What happened!” you exclaim, looking at someone for an explanation as you reach up to help him apply more pressure to the wound.</p><p class="p1">Michael takes more of the boy’s weight on his side as he sighs forlornly, “It was close, it really was fucking close. They had me out in the courtyard, they were going to slit my throat. You shouldn’t have gotten in the way, Yuta!” Your friend lets out a moan of pain when your fingers involuntarily stutter against his injury. Yuta was too loyal for this. He charged into the foray just to save Michael, as he’d promised to Mark, and had ended up with what should’ve been the killing blow.</p><p class="p1">“I’m f-fine. It’s just a scratch,” Yuta croaks, words mangled with the severity of his injury. The effort to speak sends a fresh wave of crimson out to stain the fabric.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>He’s not.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Okay, we need to go, I said most of my piece anyways,” you say, frantic. “Where’s Seulgi, we need to get him to the hospital, he’s going to bleed out at any second—,”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Michael. How fortuitous that we meet like this.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You suspend all movement, making well sure your hand stays over Yuta’s at his neck. Your back is turned to the source of the noise, so very subtly, you lift your chin to take in the reaction of your friends. All of them have gone dead blank with recognition, but when you glance at Michael, and see his good face just smothered in undiluted rage, you know who’s joined you. You raise your eyebrows at Mark, who catches the gesture, and he very, very slowly bends beside you to take over applying pressure on Yuta’s wound.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">With your bloody, shaking palm held at your side, you raise yourself to full standing, and turn. Premier Kim is there in his military regalia, peek of an angry cut visible at his neck, handgun pointed at Michael. Taeyeon, Siwon, and a handful of their Pandora guards are gathered in the space, but there’s only one man this all comes down to. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You go to stand in front of Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> You’re shorter than him but you do your best to not allow any inch of him to be exposed to a clear shot, and you keep your voice clear and firm, “Please don’t.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve made this all so hard for us, Ms. Y/l/n,” Premier Kim whines, like a petulant child. “Why couldn’t you just do what we asked of you? I don’t want to kill all of you.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He’s made it clear time and time again that he derives a special sort of glee from torturing you with the possibility and you snap, “Don’t lie to me, I think you respect me enough not to do that.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Premier Kim raises his hands in the air for a second, then trains the gun back on you, “I don’t want to. Really, I don’t. But I will do it if I have to.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He moves his aim so that you’re no longer the intended target, but now, the path of the bullet will travel right through Mark’s forehead. He’s still crouching beside Yuta, body trembling in fear save for the hand that’s firmly keeping his best friend’s lifeblood from tumbling out. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Just like you’d done with Michael only moments ago, Jaehyun steps right in front of Mark with no hesitation, his broad body concealing both his friends’, staring down Premier Kim with full loathing. You’re frozen, you can’t move to help him at the risk of exposing Michael and Premier Kim knows it. A delicious smirk spreads across his mouth as he pulls back the safety on his gun. He’ll kill Jaehyun and then Mark and go right for you next. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Father!” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">A figure throws itself in the middle of the fracas, pushing Jaehyun to the floor, and Michael catches you before you tumble down along with him in surprise. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Premier Kim can’t quite believe it either, squinting past the brim of his peaked cap at the sight of his son. “Kyungsoo?” </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">It’s Kyungsoo, it’s him, coming to you as he’d promised. He’s taken forever to arrive, but you see that Baekhyun is on the ground, trying to help Jaehyun scoot away from the danger zone. Kyungsoo had gone through the apartment floor by floor to try and find his best friend. His dress shirt is now stained with the sweat of his effort, his torso billowing with his panted breaths. But he’s here and he’s just stood in front of his father’s weapon, had just <em>saved</em> Jaehyun. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Father, you will not harm them,” Kyungsoo declares as he walks backwards towards you, holding his hands out and keeping his eye on his father. “You won’t.” </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">You can’t believe his strategy actually works — Premier Kim lowers his gun as his offspring occupies the space between the two of you. Michael moves right away to cover you instead, Ten blocks out the space to your right, and Jaehyun and Baekhyun scramble upwards to conceal your body’s last exposed slip.Together, you take another step out of range, an action that Premier Kim takes as a sign of surrender.</span>
</p><p class="p1">He turns to bark at a very queasy Siwon, “Tell John to send the troops to—,”</p><p class="p1">“Send them where, pray tell,” Lt. General Nakamoto booms as he appears through the door. You see the subtle widening of the older man’s eyes as he catches the sight of his son with blood pouring off him, but he does not react beyond looking the nation’s head in the eyes and daring him, “I think I’d really like to know where my regiments are going to be sent to.”  Johnny enters the room behind him, no signs of physical fatigue or struggle with his confident air. He has his own father in handcuffs before him, forcing him to keep walking. If General Suh has been arrested like this, that makes Yuta’s father the de facto head of the military.</p><p class="p1">Premier Kim lets the first sign of shock dance across his face, his lips parting at the defiant sign from one of his top military leaders. However, he composes it into a sneer of rage as he directs the order to the scattered bodyguards, “Close it off! I’ll shoot the next person who tries comes through those doors!”</p><p class="p1">Mr. Nakamoto chuckles, bitter and entertained, before he reveals, “The only thing they’re going to see outside is the full might of the Elyxion army in possession, by my hand, of our gloriously manufactured artillery. They are prepared to resist when I give word to General Zhang.” Oh my god, those tanks Seulgi saw outside were Johnny and Yuta’s father coming to save you. “I might have a lieutenant in front of my general title, but my men still listen to me. They’ve retreated back to Neozone, where they have been told to stand down.”</p><p class="p1">The officials jaw’s all drop at the reveal that their military is no longer in position to cross the border freely. Premier Kim starts to lose it, snarling and stuttering unintelligibly as the strands of his plan start to unravel before him. You bend over and you start to help Mark and Yuta up, Baekhyun doing the same so you can take your avenue to exit. If you can slip past them to get to where Mr. Nakamoto is standing by the other entrance, you can go with him. The Elyxion soldiers will save you.</p><p class="p1">“I called the paramedics—,”</p><p class="p1">It happens in agonizing, beautiful slow motion, the gorgeous flutter of Seulgi’s ponytail as she materializes through the entryway, the ray of a smile that crosses Yuta’s face when he sees her, with no accompanying wince as he’s consumed in her presence. All tied together by the elegant arc of Premier Kim’s arm as he raises his gun again and fires right to the door.</p><p class="p1">You’re not sure you’ll ever forget the high-pitched little note of surprise that trills from Seulgi’s lips when the bullet shatters through her forehead.</p><p class="p1">“Seulgi!” Yuta shouts, the syllables hewn apart by his shredded throat.</p><p class="p1">When Mark loses his balance and goes stumbling away from him, Yuta is freed to run to his wife. With the pressure no longer holding him together, his throat wound starts to weep freely down his chest, deeper than you’d expected, rivulets of blood streaming down the length of his body with no mechanism left to stop it. He makes it a step, maybe two, and then his body ricochets with the Newtonian force of another silver round shredding through his torso, Premier Kim’s second bullet embedding itself deep in the meat of his back.</p><p class="p1">“Yuta, no!” Someone’s screaming, maybe Ten, maybe Jaehyun, maybe you, “Yuta!”</p><p class="p1">You’re watching all of it in grotesque fascination, John arrested in place with his eyes closed, unable to watch, Lt. General Nakamoto blowing past the guards that have surrounded him to get to his son. You turn and you see Seulgi’s lithe chest is already motionless, not even a dreg of dwindling energy left to hold onto. Yuta’s hand is an inch from her face, body prone where he collapsed upon being shot, drenched with both of their mingling blood. You can't tell if he's still breathing. The worst of it is realizing there’s a peek of crushed sapphire blue in his back pocket, realizing that he’s stowed his flower away for protection throughout all of this.</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“I said I’d shoot the first person who came through that door,” Premier Kim snarls as he waves around the gun in a menacing display, “Listen to me!”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Mr. Nakamoto is sobbing on his knees, loud and mournful as he begs for his son to get up, blood squelching under his grasp as he works in a last-ditch effort to stave off the bleeding from both the neck and the bullet. Mark’s lost in the haze, Baekhyun, Jaehyun, everyone. You feel like you’re alone, so you do what you have to, you shove Kyungsoo out of the way to stand right in the line of fire. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Please stop, please,” you entreat Premier Kim with full sincerity. “This isn’t what he wanted, this isn’t what Taeyong wanted.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“How would you know, silly girl?” he sneers, letting his full disdain for you flow forth, “Killing three men does not make you a warrior, you have to know true struggle to live up to that greatness.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You have known more struggle than he ever will, but this is not the time for a pissing contest. That will only rile him up further, and you cannot risk that. You go a different route, as you think of how deeply affected he seemed to be by Kyungah at her end, and you murmur to him, “I’m sorry that you never got to know your son, really, I am. I’m sorry you never got to be with the woman you love. I know what it’s like to exist without a person you love. I’ve had to do it every day since you took Jeno from me.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Premier Kim hesitates, like he knows his separation from Kyungsoo was never permanent, that it was his fault he never married Kyungah. He knows that you’ve been through the worst of it but he continues on, anyways, “The time apart is immaterial now. I will give Kyungsoo the greatest gift a father could give his son by taking control of the nation and passing it to him, as my grandfather did to me.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“That’s not what he wanted,” you repeat, then you tell him what you’ve saved for last, “he wanted unity between Neozone and Elyxion. I know, because <em>I read Luna’s paper.</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You look away from Premier Kim’s stunned face to see Doyoung somehow still has the video camera slung over his shoulder. He’s gotten all of this on film, he’s sent it out for the nation to see. This is what will tie the knot off on your stitching. Dorado needs to hear this.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Kyungsoo comes to stand beside you, one brush of his fingers against yours a silent acknowledgment of appreciation. For telling the truth. For believing him after all this time. You say the words to the camera, but they’re really to Kyungsoo, Taeyong Lee’s great-grandson, your cherished savior, and Luna Park’s true love.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">“</span>The storied leader’s final words were as follows, dictated to his wife,<em> ‘My love, I will never lose the hope that our proud children will one day reconcile with the noble descendants of this region we’ve called home. They must undo the suffering I brought upon this nation.’"</em></p><p class="p1">That was Taeyong’s final mission. One of only reconciliation between the regions. And peace.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The gun is trained on you once more, and the smirk on Premier Kim’s face is back, “How will anyone believe you when you’re dead?” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You’re not afraid to die, not anymore. You know what awaits you if you go. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He is too late with his threat and you remind him of that, “The whole nation heard the broadcast we just filmed. Will hear it again when they listen to the opening track on Baekhyun’s new album, which radio stations in Dorado have been blasting all morning. You already killed Luna and her story made it out anyway, what do you think will happen if you kill me?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“We only have a single avenue of finding out. Shall we?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Please,” Jaehyun begs from where he’s run up right beside you, forgotten throughout this exchange. “Let her go. You can take me instead.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“No, don’t,” you murmur. Because even though you hate Mr. Jung, you hate him so much, you would never want a parent to see the death of their child. You know he’s watching, wherever they’ve taken him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Premier Kim chuckles, “You’re still as naive as ever, you kids. True love? It’s not worth shit. Everyone leaves you anyways.” He moves the gun a foot to your left all the same, “If you insist, though.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">It’s instinct, to shift your entire body so you’re blocking most of Jaehyun. You can feel him hovering behind you and you reach back to grasp his arm, his fingers finding yours as you hold each other for the final time. You’ve got his heart covered with your own, and you assume Premier Kim to be a good enough shot that it will be all over soon. You’ll face death one last time to keep him safe. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Bye, Jae. I’ll see you,” you whisper, and then Premier Kim fires. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You brace yourself for the impact, but there is none. Instead, when you open your eyes Premier Kim is groaning and bleeding, burgundy flood cascading down from a new wound on his neck. The officials have scattered, the soldiers are twitching in place, unsure what to do. It’s complete bedlam. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">What stands out to you in that moment? You didn’t have a gun, so what had injured Premier Kim? And who had done it?</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You turn around and let out a strangled cry, “Michael!” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You stand in shock as the man crouches over in pain, a crimson gash spreading across his grey sweater sleeve from where the bullet intended for you had nicked his firing arm. The gun he’d snatched from Mark’s pocket is scattered on the ground after impact.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">There’s a roar as someone goes scrambling by you, “You killed him!”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The salty tears in your vision force you to blink, and then you see your best friend, gun in hand from where his father’s dropped it, absolutely body slam Premier Kim back onto the concrete. Michael was the one who fired at Premier Kim, but now Mark has taken responsibility of gaining their family’s comeuppance. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Mark doesn’t use the gun as it’s intended, instead brandishing it like a club, cracking ferocious blow after blow against the older man’s skull. The mania consumes him completely, strong arm beating again and again as he screams, “You killed Jeno! It was you! You killed my baby brother! You tried to kill my Dad, you kidnapped my mother!” </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“John, stop them, don’t let them get away!” Michael cries from where he’s still slumped over, trying to tie a torn strip of his shirt around his arm. </span>
  <span class="s1">You think at first he’s talking about his own son, but the phrasing is bizarre. Your eyes shoot up to see Taeyeon and Siwon attempting the scurry of their lives back through the entrance they came in from. Michael knows that if they escape, they’ll disappear to continue disseminating their bloodthirsty beliefs and you’ll have only cut off one of the sources of poison. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Johnny sucks in a large, pained breath, not prepared to exert his tender lungs in this way. Then, he reacts in a flash, pushing his father to the ground as he takes off after Taeyeon first. He has a gun extended in his hand, visioned tunneled only into her retreating back. </span>
  <span class="s2">She doesn’t stand a chance, John’s long legs are bearing down on her rapidly, and a bullet is fired into the back of her head before she can even turn to plead for her life.</span>
  <span class="s1"> Siwon has gathered a squadron of soldiers to block his exit, genuine fear pulsating through his smarmy features, not even grief at the demise of his wife. But they disappear through the door all at once before you can confirm that John gets to him too.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Y/n!” It’s Ten shouting now in your ear now, you think, he grabbing your arm and trying to grab your attention away from your best friend. “We need to go!” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">But you don’t answer, too entranced by the scene you’ve returned to. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Mark has tossed the gun aside in favor of his fists, his fingers coming up streaked with Premier Kim’s blood as he pummels the older man’s face. This is a lifetime’s worth of fury unleashed, his knuckles crashing into the leader’s nose, the man’s skull ricocheting against the floor with a gleefully disturbing crunch. That seems to give Mark an idea and he stops punching in favor of grasping Premier Kim’s face in his hands. He lifts the man’s head a foot off the ground, then slams it back onto the concrete. You take a sick pleasure in the way the older man’s head cracks against the floor, the way his hands, which had been clawing at anything in an effort to get away, start to go limp. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“You almost killed bee!” Mark shrieks with unparalleled fury, battering the politician's head back against the floor again and again and again. “I’ll kill you for that!” Premier Kim’s a small little man then, in the face of brute strength without his snakeish words to back him up. Mark is relentless. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Marco,” Jaehyun whispers, fingers pulling at your shirt sleeve, telling you he’s desperate to go help his friend.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You give him leave without glancing away, “It’s okay, go.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“It was you who killed Jeno,” Mark snarls for a final time, and when he lifts Premier Kim’s head and smashes it against the floor, you know he’s dealt the final blow. “It was you.” </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Premier Kim </span>
  <span class="s2">rolls over, limply and lamely, dead.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Jaehyun rushes to crouch on the floor beside a paralyzed Mark, who’s clearly coming off the adrenaline high that compelled him to take matters into his own hands. At the same time, a fresh wave of Special Forces soldiers rush in just as Elyxion soldiers pour into the room from the other side. The latter do so under the stern gaze of General Zhang, who you’re shocked to find is a man that’s not much older than you. The Pandora guards visibly cower but stand their ground against the intrusion, the tension ratcheting up through the domed roof. Both sides are at a standoff, knowing that one wrong move will set off the violence but unwilling to back down and let the situation diffuse naturally.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Michael has gone to join Jaehyun at Mark’s side with Kyungsoo in tow, and whispers something to coax his son up off the ground. Baekhyun, Ten, and Mr. Nakamoto are still by Yuta’s side. You can’t make out what they’re doing, but it’s not good if their harrowed face are indication. And there’s still no sign of John. </span>
</p><p class="p1">You struggle to find your voice, the words dried up with what you’ve just witnessed. The plea to your husband’s turned back comes out in a whisper, “Jae, we need to go—, oh.”</p><p class="p1">A supernova of white-hot suffering detonates against the expanse of your torso, like the universe has chosen that location to spin the creation of a black hole. Then, the sensation is sucked all the way through you, exploding out your back in a fireworks display of pain. Through the lens of shocked tears formed right into your eyes, you catch the glint of a knife’s metal blade disappearing into the cavern of your body, tearing you apart as it’s pulled from the blow pushed right through your stomach.</p><p class="p1">The torn shreds of your shirt flutter around you, and you breathe out in confusion when you see the rip, “Oh?”</p><p class="p1">General Zhang is the only one who’s seen what’s happened, is watching in horror as your seizing right hand reaches around to your scarred back, coming away with a full handprint of fresh blood. You can’t control any of the trembling, it’s an unavoidable earthquake of convulsions as your left hand descends to your stomach, reigniting that frenzied dynamite of agony when you touch your shredded skin. When you pull it away from your front, identically painted in a red-wine hue, and look to him with unbelievably sad eyes, the Elyxion military leader shouts for his men, “They attacked first, assemble into advance formation! Prepare yourselves, protect our citizens!”</p><p class="p1">The room breaks out into a frenzy. The Elyxion soldiers listen to their commander, forming a neat formation of rows, with their guns at the ready, pointing right at other soldiers. Mark scrambles up from where he is with Michael and Jaehyun by his side, just as you press your hand to your wound once again, fingers sliding against the raw muscle that’s been exposed.</p><p class="p1">General Suh has taken his position by the assembled Pandora soldiers, ordering them in return, “What are you waiting around for! Defend our region like you were hired to do!”</p><p class="p1">But before they can scramble into a defensive position behind him, there’s a overpowering command, “Stand down.”Kyungsoo has brought himself into the middle of the deadlock, white shirt now pink with a horrible mixture of blood. He looks between the groups of men to exert his new authority, “As your Premier, I command you to stand down, all of you! There’s no need for war.”</p><p class="p1">They instated bloodline succession. With Premier Kim’s passing, Kyungsoo is now the leader of Dorado.</p><p class="p1">“Shut up, idiot boy!” A voice growls, reappearing and disappearing in the greater commotion. Dark spots start to bloom in your vision, clouding your search for the source of the noise.</p><p class="p1">“Dad?” Jaehyun calls at the sound, recognizing the voice before you do. You saw Mr. Jung and his glasses get dragged away, they can’t be what you’re seeing on that disguised soldier right now, right? Cap askew, jacket half buttoned, like it was put on in haste. “Dad, is that you?!”</p><p class="p1">You don’t know how Mark goes from clue to clue — General Zhang’s sudden action to your missing presence beside him to his best friend advancing forward — but he looks right at you as you pry your hand off your stomach once more, forearm now completely covered in your own blood.</p><p class="p1">He catches you right before you collapse to the ground, you don’t know how he’s covered that much space that fast, crying, “Bee! Bee! Oh my god! What happened?”</p><p class="p1">You try to grab his arm but fail, palm slipping against his skin with the wave of blood that’s drenched it. You’re still confused, this blood couldn’t have appeared out of nowhere, there was a knife, you think, you have no idea, “I don’t… I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">“The line of succession has been made clear. With my father’s death, I have now ascended to the position. I order you to lower your weapons!”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo is a politician and a king all at once, doing his very best to stop the war before it starts. There was never supposed to be another war after Taeyong’s, he’s working in honor of his great-grandfather’s legacy, he’s giving it his all to glue the country together right now. Premier Kim never accounted for this, the chance that his son would conquer his fear of retaliation to do what he must. Kyungsoo’s heart could never be anything but pure. General Zhang’s head dips in a curt nod, and the Elyxion soldiers let their guns fall in hand to their sides.</p><p class="p1">But General Suh will not take instructions from someone he views as his inferior, he screams at the top of his lungs, “Finish Kyungho’s plan, this is what we’ve all worked these decades for!”</p><p class="p1">“Drop your weapons!” Kyungsoo orders directly to the Pandora troops, “There will be no war here!”</p><p class="p1">You see it when you’re too late to say anything, you don’t know if your lungs even have the air to push out a warning. It’s Mr. Jung - blood streaked across his face, concealed under a soldier's cap - weaving his way to open space behind where the standoff is, unnoticed by probably everyone except you. At first you think he’s heading to the door to escape, but he changes directions and marches on the path right to Kyungsoo’s turned back.</p><p class="p1">Mr. Jung raises the knife, the bloody knife he’d just used to stab you, and he heaves it down right towards Kyungsoo’s chest—,</p><p class="p1">“Jae!”</p><p class="p1">Weird. Why’d Mark just shield you with his body, and scream the wrong name?</p><p class="p1">You look past Mark’s sunny head of hair just as Jaehyun stumbles backwards. A gaping hole is stabbed right through the grey of his sweatshirt, his body is dousing itself in an everlasting fountain of blood, protruding from the galaxy of space right below his heart. Kyungsoo hasn’t even turned, he’s a statue still in the same spot - shoulders hunched in anticipatory fear, his wide eyes now planets in his face as he’s heard all of the carnage without seeing it.</p><p class="p1">Mr. Jung goes white with horror, lips barely moving as he gasps, “Jaehyun. Jaehyun, what did you do?!”</p><p class="p1">You gag with the iron taste of blood coming up your throat. The act of forcing it back down sends another wave swell of the crimson fluid spilling down your clothes, blemishing your soul as Jaehyun takes another step backwards, foot tripping on itself as he goes falling. He has enough strength left to catch himself on one knee, and then coughs wildly, hacking blood all over the place.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun first mumbles quietly, lost in the mess of his hair, “Dad.” Then he looks up through the stain of his tears, pretty lips tainted an awful red, meets his father’s eyes once, and collapses back onto the ground.</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun,” Mr. Jung stutters, “J-Jaehyun.”</p><p class="p1">Beside himself with guilt and horror, Mr. Jung goes stumbling through the space as he vomits everywhere, devastated to think that he’s just killed his son without intending to. He was aiming for Kyungsoo, there’s no denying it. In the apartment, he’d promised Jaehyun he could make him Premier, that you would be who he killed first, Kyungsoo would be next, and the path to ruling the nation would be clear. But his own son had stopped in front of the blow to save the older man.</p><p class="p1">Without much warning or time for anyone to react, Mr. Jung lifts the hilt of the knife — the one you’re sure he used to free himself from the guards, the one just driven through your stomach, the one that carved apart his own son’s chest — and levels the blade right towards his own throat. Kyungsoo, now back to lucidity, goes running across the space and tackles Mr. Jung before his skin is opened up by the weapon. They wrestle on the ground, back and forth, screaming in their hasty struggle. Kyungsoo’s hands grapple first for the weapon but he ends up grabbing the politician’s throat in protection as the blade moves to ribbon the skin there. You catch Kyungsoo's cries of pain as he’s slashed in Mr. Jung's relentless attempts to end it all.</p><p class="p1">Something terrible must happen next because the entire room gasps in wretched shock, echoed to a maximum decibel from below the windows. Doyoung must still be filming, but you don’t even see any of it.</p><p class="p1">“Jae. Jae,” you’re murmuring to yourself as you focus in on his limp body. “Jae.” Your voice is so quiet but it’s the only thing you can hear in your ears over Mark’s screaming, <em>We gotta take her over there!,</em> over Michael’s desperate replies, <em>She’s going to bleed out! We’ve already lost the two of them!</em></p><p class="p1">“We’ve got to!” Mark protests as he grabs you to him. You want to tell him it hurts, it really hurts, you want your mom here, you want your dad to hug you and tell you it’ll be okay, but your lips form the syllables and nothing comes out but <em>Jae. </em></p><p class="p1">“Come on, let’s do it together then,” Michael’s mouth is moving but your dad’s voice is coming out, <em>“Sweet pea, we’ll be careful.”</em></p><p class="p1">“They got the reporter outside! Two guards were already dead downstairs with their jackets missing and I can see the ambulances up the street—, oh my god!” That deep, exhausted, strangled voice is Johnny’s, you’re sure. It evolves into horrified heartbreak as he makes eye contact with you as Michael and Mark prop you up into a standing position. Johnny rushes over right away to hold your hand as you all limp-stagger over to where Jaehyun is, blood, blood, and more blood pooling out of your wound with each step.</p><p class="p1">Why the fuck is this the second time you have to do this, the second time you have to crouch beside a boy that you love and smooth the hair out of his motionless face. Jaehyun’s chest isn’t moving, it isn’t rising and falling with the careful actions of his tender heart.</p><p class="p1">“Why did you do that?” you’re sobbing in a rhetorical question you won’t get a response to, hands moving again and again against his curly bangs, sending the soft strands everywhere, “Why?”</p><p class="p1">You don’t expect an answer, you know he’s dead, Jaehyun’s <em>gone…</em></p><p class="p1">“I—</p><p class="p1">“Jae?” Someone’s quietly hopeful voice rings out from behind you, you don’t know who’s there anymore, it’s just you and Jaehyun, just the two of you.</p><p class="p1">When you blink once more, you open your eyes to ones crafted of amber staring up at you. Jaehyun’s signature dimples flash in his cheeks as he sends you the tiniest grin and confesses laboriously, “I thought you w-would be sad if h-he died.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no relief that he’s somehow still with you, there’s only anger, because you can’t believe he’s fucking done something like this, something so selfless. You would’ve been sad if Kyungsoo died, you would’ve been heartbroken. Of course Jaehyun had known that.</p><p class="p1">“And you thought it would be okay for you to die instead, what the hell is wrong with you—,” you start, but the effort it takes to scream at him re-activates the pain sensors in your ravaged torso. Your vision goes black for a second with the lion’s roar of awful misery spreading out through the wound, and your hand desperately presses into your skin to alleviate it, to do something, anything to get this nauseating desolation to disappear to see Jaehyun once more.</p><p class="p1">Your head goes woozy when you vision returns. Your hand is now a darker red than before, the sticky, de-oxygenated blood an awful tableau to see. Your body’s shutting down, you know it, you can feel it.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun doesn’t know what’s wrong, he hasn’t seen any of it, hasn’t seen that his father’s the one that’s stabbed you. His eyes are only trained to yours from where he’s laying, he can’t move his head, can’t look upon your injury, and that’s good. He’s only smiling at you, his true love, and you won’t take that from him. You don’t want the two of you to be alone at the end. It’s a relief that you’re going to die together, but you really don’t want to be alone. Your fingers tremble as you touch his face, as you try to savor every last drop of Jaehyun you’re privileged enough to have, and he closes his eyes at the soothing sensation.</p><p class="p1">“Where’s Mark, where is he, is he here, Jae?” you ask him, tongue heavy as it slurs, fascinated at how your heightened pain levels have also increased the peace in your voice, “I want to see Mark, tell him I love you and can’t marry him because, like I love him but I love you in an I want to have babies with you kind of way. I don’t want to do that with Mark. He’s my brother, you know. Mark’s my brother.”</p><p class="p1">There’s the phantom ghost of a hand across your shoulder, an even further away whisper, <em>Bee! I’m here!</em></p><p class="p1">Jaehyun keeps his eyes closed, head shaking in a small gesture of denial, “I don’t know where Mark is. W-what—,” he splutters violently, spitting up a huge clot of wine hued blood, and his head clunks back against the floor in exhaustion. You count the breaths as they come, one, two, three, his beautiful heart trying its very best to keep him here with you, four, five, six. Six awfully shallow breaths before his golden eyes open once more, and he finds it in himself to softly tease, “What is a have babies kind of way?”</p><p class="p1">Before you can answer, his eyelids close again. It’s not the soft flutter of tiredness, it’s his body’s survival instinct kicking in, his frame violently seizing under you as it starts to feel the effects of his massive blood loss. You stumble back from him when you’re hit, frantic as you immediately push back try to stop his motioning, “Jae, Jae, what’s happening?” Blood keeps spilling from between his lips, dripping down his face and throat, you feel the salty sting of tears spilling all over your face. “Ah! Jae?!”</p><p class="p1">A tall person takes your place on the ground, and someone carefully moves you out of the way. Their large hands keep Jaehyun in place as they wheeze, “Jae, it’s John, wake up, wake up please! The paramedics are almost here!”</p><p class="p1">He’s shoved aside by someone older, they have salt and pepper hair, that’s all that you can make out as they bend over his still shaking body and order, “Wake up son, it’s me, it’s Mark’s pops, you can’t leave us now, we’ve got a lot stuff planned for our family, understand?” He takes Jaehyun’s face in his hands with all his fatherly strength, and holds him down as he cries, “You and y/n owe me big time because Mark is still single. We need to get him a girl, a guy, whoever, okay?”</p><p class="p1">The person holding you gently lowers you back onto the ground, and then you’re looking into the cute face of an angel, you think. “Bee, I’m here, it’s Mark, it’s bumble.”</p><p class="p1">Oh, that’s not a halo, that’s blonde hair, the blonde hair of your best friend. You take his hand in yours, able to recognize it’s Mark’s from just a touch, and you greet him with a happy smile, “Hi, bumble.”</p><p class="p1">Mark doesn’t answer, distracted by the commotion behind you. It really, truly hurts to twist back over to see… you guess it’s Michael, he’d identified himself as Mark’s father, cradling Jaehyun in his arms, begging, “We have to get you and our y/n married again.” His hand grasps firmly at Jaehyun’s face, squishing his cheeks to get a response, “Jae, look at me.” But Jaehyun doesn’t open his eyes, and the sobbing only gets harder, “Kind of unfair you got married without me there, considering I’ve known you since you were a baby and she’s always wanted me to walk her down the aisle! We gotta get her parents there too, okay? And your momma? It’s gotta be all of us. You hear me, Jae? We’ve got to get you a proper wedding this time.”</p><p class="p1">Your neck is screaming at agony, you have to stop looking. Your eyes gracefully rainbow back to the ceiling just as you hear a silvery soft, “Y/n, she's here?”</p><p class="p1">“Mark, Mark.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m here.” He reappears in your vision from above, tear tracks visible on his face.</p><p class="p1">Is he crying because he’s sad? You don’t want him to be sad, Mark cannot be sad ever. You think hard, really, really hard, of something you can tell him so he won’t be sad again. You can’t remember if the Bats won the championship this year, or if he has a job promotion you can congratulate him on, or if you have any happy memories together you can remind him about.</p><p class="p1">It’s kind of stupid, the thing you think of, what comes tumbling out of your mouth when Mark’s warm brown eyes meet yours, “Did you know…. that there’s a boy from home I want to marry?”</p><p class="p1">He laughs, the prettiest symphony you’ve ever heard, and he nods. “Jae, I know.”</p><p class="p1">“You do?” you gasp, under the impression this is the most well kept secret in Neozone. Why’d he have to ruin the surprise like this?</p><p class="p1">“I do,” Mark confirms, hand tweaking your nose with full fondness. “We all do, me, John, Yu. Jeno. We all know.”</p><p class="p1">Oh, now that you’re thinking of it, you haven’t seen Jeno in too long. He’s been off with the Bats in the playoffs for too long. Has he gotten too famous to come back to the city and say hi to his sister? He may be an all-star pitcher and world famous baseball player but he is still your kid brother.</p><p class="p1">“Jeno? He’s here? Can I see him?” you ask, fighting to sit up and look around for the boy, see if he’s brought home a signed ball for you. The peal of sunlight through the glass window in the dome above you recalls a lemon pocket square you remember, and you grab Mark’s arm with urgency to add on, “Wait, I hope you’re not mad I almost married your cousin. Because I loved him, too.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a group of people gathered behind Mark - you can’t tell if one of them wears the solemn expression that you’d loved so much, if that black hair is really Kyungsoo’s, but you tell yourself that it’s him. You love him, you’ve always loved him, it’s impossible not to love someone who took care of you so spectacularly.</p><p class="p1">“I could never be mad at you, never,” Mark sniffles, before his grip around your hand locks in and he entreats you with passion, “okay, maybe I’ll be mad at you if you die. You can’t die, okay?”</p><p class="p1">Across the room, similar sentiment is echoed, <em>Jaehyun, stay with me, okay, you can’t go like this!</em></p><p class="p1">The edges of your vision start to go blurry with beautiful remembrance, of a golden ring, a faded photo of kids together, two flowers in their mugs. You stare up at Mark, and you can’t help the excited smile or question, “Oh, is Jaehyun really here?”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Jaehyun Jung, listen to me! You do not leave us, okay, I cannot lose another son!</em>
</p><p class="p1">Your hearing fades out after the first word. Jaehyun’s here, you know he is, you want to be with him forever. You don’t think this awful gash would ache so badly if he was here to hold your hand, too. You implore Mark with your very, very best girlish, puppy dog begging, “I would like to see Jaehyun, can you take me to him?”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s crying again, why’s he crying, you said to yourself you wouldn’t see him sad again, why is he crying? You struggle to sit up but you really feel like your body is both sinking into the floor and no longer part of real existence. The ache that was just there has dissipated away in an instant, and you’re not totally sure you can feel your fingers in Mark’s anymore.</p><p class="p1">He gazes back down to you, sad smile on his face as he brushes a lock of hair out of your face and shakes his head, “No, I can’t, not right now. You can’t see him right now and you can’t see Jeno, either, okay? Can you stay awake and tell me about Jae, instead?”</p><p class="p1">You love Mark with your whole entire heart, you know that for sure. There’s not another person on this Earth who was made just for you in this way, your personal field of cheery tulips. You have to make sure to express your gratitude for him — if you’re remembering right, it’s solely due to Mark that you were able to cross paths with Jaehyun all that time ago. Your best friend, a stranger then, was the one who suggested you look for your own house and led you right to the hill you’d lived on. You really owe him a thank you for that.</p><p class="p1">Because Jaehyun has always been your true love. Him, and no one else.</p><p class="p1">“He, oh, I don’t know, Mark,” your voice cracks, you can’t tell if it’s due to emotion or from how much you're having trouble speaking or because you’re wildly upset you can’t see Jaehyun right now. But Mark has to know this, he has to know what Jaehyun means to you, “He’s the kind of boy who kept a picture of me in his wallet for five years because he loved me. He makes me happy, so thank you.”</p><p class="p1">“And that makes me happy,” Mark professes, though he’s still crying, maybe harder now. He’s actually weeping as he stumbles over the follow up, “W-why are you thanking me, though?”</p><p class="p1">It’s right there on the peak of your lips, <em>I met him because of you,</em> but the the words float away when you see who’s joined the conversation.</p><p class="p1">“Bumble.” You tug at the corner of his sleeve, careful not to get too much blood on it, “You said I couldn’t see Jeno right now. But he’s here.”</p><p class="p1">“Bee…” Mark’s voice pirouettes away into dreamy nothingness, just as his face dissolves out of your vision, “…there’s no one there.”</p><p class="p1">He’s wrong. Mark is wrong about that.</p><p class="p1">Because Jeno is standing right behind his brother, elegantly handsome in his Neozone Bats uniform with the pristine number thirteen stitched right by his heart. Like the funny, arrogant, cute, childish boy you remember, he lifts his cap to sweep his black hair off his forehead and wink at you all at once.</p><p class="p1">You greet him with the sweetest smile, not caring if he still hates the old nickname you're compelled to use. It’s been too long.</p><p class="p1">“Hi, Nono. I've missed you.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>-END OF PART THREE-</strong>
</p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>all i will say is thank you for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. borago officinalis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“From now on, you’ll only see me in the pretty dreams.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank u to literally everyone who even took a peek at the last chapter, left a comment, kudos, etc. i felt so loved and appreciated and i'm obsessed with the fact that so many of u told me u cried. lmao, like me too, let me get sm to manufacture an nct tissue box.</p><p>this chapter is bit shorter than usual but i was absolutely obsessed with it being a standalone part, so this is what you get today. </p><p>set to the tune of this sweet song: as long as you love me by sleeping at last - www.youtube.com/watch?v=czghb8RB-eE</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong>-INTERLUDE: UTOPIA-</strong>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Hi, Nono. I’ve missed you.”</p><p class="p1">This has to be heaven, the angels have brought you right here to him. You can feel the sprigs of fauna tickling at your legs from where you’re standing at the peak of a grassy knoll, and though there is no actual sun overhead, you’re warmed through to your core by the phantom rays. You’re finally able to make out the fine details of Jeno’s appearance, now that it’s not as if your vision is being carried away by a pall of spirits. He stands half a foot taller than you, broader shoulders than Mark’s filling out his baseball uniform, baby fat starting to melt out of his cheeks only accentuating his chiseled, serious handsomeness.</p><p class="p1">Even the way he greets you is so much more mature, the dash of his index finger against your upper arm and his soft smirk, “Hey, y/n.”</p><p class="p1">“Am I dead?” You can’t help but blurt it out, unable to take your eyes off his face - his handsome, <em>older</em> face. You’ve had fifteen year old Jeno preserved in your memory so perfectly for so long that this is beyond jarring.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know, are you?”</p><p class="p1">“If you’re here, then I think I am.”</p><p class="p1">“Rest in peace,” he deadpans, making the sign of the cross with a solemn expression. That all melts away into his crescent eyes and giddy grin, “Just kidding, this is all totally your imagination.”</p><p class="p1">You find this incredibly hard to believe and you have to clarify, “So, I’m not dead?”</p><p class="p1">His hand curls around your arm, the sensation of balmy skin against yours has to be a sign you’re dreaming of all this. He turns you slightly, so you can see out into the white nothingness that surrounds the hill, and points, “That’s where you’re at.”You get a surreal glimpse at yourself back on the floor of the Pandora Building through this visual portal - your lifeless body in Mark’s arms, matching crater of pooled red wine blood flooding from the crater in your stomach. You must grimace, because Jeno tacks on, “Pretty gnarly, huh? When it happened to me, I spent this whole time pissed off that I got your strawberry shirt dirty.”</p><p class="p1">That smiling strawberry flashes in your eyes as your brow furrows at his wording. “What are you saying, when <em>this</em> happened to you?”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, this state of limbo we apparently enter, once it is our time to pass on,” Jeno parrots out. He waves a careless hand, sounding wise beyond his years as he details what is going on in this dream.</p><p class="p1">“What does that mean?”</p><p class="p1">Jeno leans back against what almost looks like a cloud, like the fluffy heavens have come to surround you here in the grass. He then shrugs, “I don’t know how it works, I’m just a hallucination of a kid that’s happening in your brain. I don’t think we decide if we live or die, if you’re asking.” He glances down at his hands — the fingertips that you’d kissed — and he murmurs, “Because I really wanted to come back home. But all I remember is seeing Poppa and Grandmama, and then I ended up here, talking to you.”</p><p class="p1">An immediate tear pricks into your eye at his recollection, that after he’d died he’d been welcomed into the embraces of people who loved him. It was an unbroken, lovely path he traveled - soaring from your arms straight into his grandparents’. A welcome relief, to know that in some way he hadn’t been alone.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, princess.”</p><p class="p1">You whirl around at the sound of a familiar, regal voice, and that tear cascades down your cheek when you see, “Yuta?”</p><p class="p1">It’s like he stepped out immaculately from one of your memories, silver hair still in a ponytail, in a plain black suit like he used to wear while on duty. He's got a sparkling blue hyacinth bud pinned to his lapel, and he’s not alone. Holding his hand, in a beautiful dress of soft taupe and wearing the most wistful smile, is Seulgi. And she's not unadorned either, not as you expected. Very carefully tucked into the curl by her ear, is the complimentary, baby blue hue of a regal starflower. Is that... is that what her flower seed would've been, the longstanding symbol of courage? It has to be. There's nothing else you can think of that would fit the woman more.</p><p class="p1">You press a hand into your cheek and sigh lowly, “Oh, no. You too?”</p><p class="p1">Just because you’re here doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten what happened in the mortal world. Theirs had been the first blood spilt of the morning, awfully crimson against the tiles of the floor, a brutal and unnecessary show of force. If they’re here in imaginary heaven together, that means….</p><p class="p1">Seulgi nods, nose wrinkling regretfully as she confirms in a calm voice, “Us too. But look again.”</p><p class="p1">Like you’re peering into the world’s biggest TV screen, you stand on your tiptoes to once more focus your line of sight into your form in Mark’s arms. The softest petal on the wind blows through your chest, the subtlest rise and fall of the black fabric confirming you’re somehow still in possession of your life force.</p><p class="p1">“I was wrong, maybe we do decide,” Jeno jokes, when he too notices your lingering dregs of life. “Wasn’t my personal choice to die then, I guess, haha! Don’t hate me!”</p><p class="p1">A cold lick of something presses its way into your torso, and your hand instinctively goes to your somehow unmarred stomach. Your injuries are fully healed in this fantasy, no gaping hole, no charred knot of scarred flesh, not on your stomach, not on your back when your fingers dart to your shoulder. You were sure you were dead, you were. And now that it seems otherwise, you’re too confused.</p><p class="p1">“I, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do,” you mutter, suddenly anxious. You turn to Yuta for his help, “If I go back, will I know about you two?”</p><p class="p1">He shakes his head sadly and denies, “You’ll have to find out all over again. You won’t remember this.”</p><p class="p1">That lick of something is fear. You’re going to have to wake up and go through all of this again. The worst suffering of your life was waking up after Jeno, and it had been the most impossible of tasks to heal yourself from that trauma. How are you going to wake up, accept that your long time best friend is <em>dead, </em>and willingly go through all of that again?</p><p class="p1">“No,” you mumble. “I don’t like that at all. That is going to be fucking hard to handle.”</p><p class="p1">“Everything’s going to be hard to handle, but everything doesn’t last a lifetime,” Seulgi reminds you, and the sensation of her warm hand on your shoulder squeezes out another deluge of tears from your eyes.</p><p class="p1">A trembling hand goes to cover hers, warmth upon warmth, and you lament in a wistful breath as your two friends hold you, “I’m so sorry. I was so ready to grow old with you. I told Mark that you were going to have a kid, I even warned him not let you name it Samurais Fan Nakamoto.” You glance between the couple, linked by the hand themselves, and ask in desperation, “Is there any way I can trade, I can do something to give you that option too?” You don’t know how any of this works — if it’s your imagination like Jeno said, or if this is truly the boundary between you and the afterlife. But there’s no rules here and because of that, you must do what you can. Yuta gave up his life for you. You have to take the opportunity to do the same.</p><p class="p1">“No,” Yuta shoots your suggestion down, then adds on in a contemplative voice, “and I suppose you already know we wouldn’t want to be there without each other.”</p><p class="p1">He’s said it in a roundabout way, but you know what he means. If by some gracious luck you were able to breathe your life into his body, he would not want to return to a world where he did not have to live without Seulgi. And it would be the same for her. You kind of get it. The idea of being separated from Mark like this is teetering on the unbearable.</p><p class="p1">“I guess it’s the same… the same for me,” you search for the words, amidst the daze of melancholy, “but it’s not like I’d be alone if I died. I’d be here with you.”</p><p class="p1">“Do you feel in your heart, that if you were to let go of your body down there, you’d end up in a world where you could meet us once again?” Seulgi asks, as caring and cautious as ever.</p><p class="p1">She forces you to think, wrap your mind around the bounds of this supernatural experience you’re having. Before this, you’d never contemplated the existence of the next life beyond your idle hopes that Jeno was happy wherever he was and the hope that one day you could be reunited with him. When faced with the real thing right before you, your hackles are up in a panic, heart racing as you contemplate the gravity of this answer. You want to say yes, definitely yes, absolutely yes, based on nothing but the naive hope that you wouldn’t have to be alone after dying. But if life is this unfair - taking Yuta and Seulgi and Jeno long before they were supposed to go - you can’t imagine the afterlife would be any fairer.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know,” you admit, because you’re more confused than ever.</p><p class="p1">“Are you willing to risk it on an <em>I don’t know</em>?”</p><p class="p1">You gaze over to Jeno, expecting — and finding, a daring smirk on his face. He knows you’re not a betting woman. In any other situation you would say no in an immediate answer. But since they’ve come to you in this dream, that has to mean you’ll see them from now on. This can't be the end, you have to see them again, all three of them. All <em>three </em>of them isn’t right, though. Your stomach clenches with a figment of your pain as you recall that there was more than one person mortally injured during that fracas. There were four. Yet, that fourth person is not anywhere you can see right now.</p><p class="p1">“Jae. Is he.... here…?” you question, nervous, too afraid of finding out the answer.</p><p class="p1">Yuta turns it back on you, “Do you think that he is?”</p><p class="p1">You’re uncomfortable with being forced to process Jaehyun’s unknown passing. The grass itches at your ankles as you start to sweat under the invisible sun. He can’t be dead, right? He can’t. You speak your train of thought so softly you barely hear it, “I’m not sure. If I’m thinking of you, and not him, that is my heart telling me that he’s somehow survived. But I don’t think I’ll be okay if I go back down there and he’s gone.”</p><p class="p1">It’s the same for you as it is for Yuta and Seulgi. You would not want to return and live without Jaehyun.</p><p class="p1">Seulgi corrects her original query to a paradox that makes you wildly distressed, “The question is simple then, right? Do you believe the chance to see him again is greater if you’re alive or if you’re here with us?”</p><p class="p1">You’re not a betting woman, but you know it’s a total crapshoot.</p><p class="p1">You want to believe this is real, that if you do pass on, you'll come to meet them here, on this sunny hill amongst the clouds. But if Jeno is right — and you’re thinking up all of this in the last drops of mortal haze you’ll have in the real world — once your eyes shut forever, will all those memories of Jaehyun be erased? That almost seems worse. Even if you were to stay alive and he was gone, you’d at least hold the memory of him in your heart forever. But is that enough, living life on the fuel of a beautiful memory?</p><p class="p1">“I—, I don’t know,” you stutter, getting agitated.</p><p class="p1">That agitation only lasts for a second because Yuta’s calm hand grasps your cheek, to steady you out as he always does. His voice is filled with comfort as he reassures you, “You know.” A wave of his magic wand and you know what you’re going to do. You nod, head bobbing in his hold, and that’s all you need to do to convey to them your choice.</p><p class="p1">Seulgi gathers you up in an embrace, her kind heart shining as she gives you her farewell, “I’m going to miss you, I loved the time we spent together. I’d always wanted to have a girlfriend just like you, and how lucky was I to get exactly what I wanted?”</p><p class="p1">You clutch her back as tightly as you can - relishing the feel of her silky hair against your cheek, the sweet smell of the starflower in your proximity. You whisper back, “I was the lucky one.”</p><p class="p1">She is an aspirational woman, fierce and strong and proud through it all. If you raise your daughters to be half as courageous as her, you’ll be satisfied. That time together you shared was not enough. You should’ve shopped and giggled and painted each others nails, been happy and carefree and raised your children together, all luxuries neither of you had the time or circumstance for. When you see her again, maybe you’ll get that opportunity. But you’ll let her go for now, because her brother, parents, and true love are waiting for her. And you could never keep Seulgi from that.</p><p class="p1">“Princess, give me a hug before I go.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t want to do this. You can’t say goodbye to him.</p><p class="p1">There’s nothing you can say right now. Speaking would break the moment, would soak up the remaining, precious final seconds you have with Yuta Nakamoto. The man who had guarded your heart so fiercely in the years he’d known you, the man who never wavered in his loyalty. You stay silent as you press yourself into his arms, taking specific time to commit the feel of his jacket to permanent remembrance, how his hair is so soft under your fingers, the familiar smell of his cologne that would permeate your home when he’d stayed there.</p><p class="p1">“This is so fucking cruel.” You’ve somehow devolved into a teary mess as you cling to him, not satisfied with just this and unable to tell yourself to keep it together. “How am I supposed to do life without you?” It was always supposed to be the six of you together, it was always supposed to be you, Mark, Jeno, Yuta, Johnny, and Jaehyun growing old together. You'll never be able to have that, that dream is slipping through your fingers, borne away on the soft clouds enveloping the hill. </p><p class="p1">“You won’t ever be without me,” Yuta proclaims, steadfast and true even through the emotional severance you’re building towards. “I’ve always got you.”</p><p class="p1">It’s his signature promise, that no matter what is going on, he’ll be there in eternal backup. It's a pointless swear, because there will be no opportunities for him to do that anymore. You don’t care if you’re being childish by crying, you can’t do this, you can’t, you really can’t, “But you’ll be here, and I won’t be.”</p><p class="p1">He’d held your hand on the very first day of school in Neozone, the only one to recognize you were afraid to be there. And now he’s doing the same, hand slipping to yours to give it one last squeeze, one last reminder to not be afraid.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll be wherever you want me to be,” he murmurs into your ear, soft, full of love, and with the strong conviction that he knows this to be forever true. “You go, and I’ll follow.”</p><p class="p1">When you step back from Yuta’s arms, Jeno is the only one left.</p><p class="p1">You sniff away a symphonious final tear, then you hold your hand out to the teen and beckon,“Come here, baby boy.” As you collapse down onto the rolling slope together, you discover that the emerald green grass has sprouted a blanket of delicately fragrant white flowers during your farewell with Yuta. There is too much stunning haze in your eyes to tell if they’re stellaria or not, but it feels exactly the same, sitting here with Jeno. You still can’t believe he’s this tall, that he can tower over you in a manner that allows him to tuck you into his side as you gasp-laugh, “You would be turning eighteen this year, you know.”</p><p class="p1">You’re realizing why you’re seeing Jeno differently in this dream. You’re imagining what it’d be like for him if he was still alive, if he’d been allowed to grow up prettily. If your delusional final promise to heal him had actually come true.</p><p class="p1">But while he might look divergent from his baby self, he still holds that same humor as he inappropriately jokes, “Don’t rub it in, I always wanted to buy lottery tickets and go to a strip club.” After you tickle his side, a subtle indication that he needs to be serious for a second, he blows out a heavy breath and whispers, “Ah, this would’ve been the first year I would’ve been eligible for the major leagues. It’s a long shot to say I would’ve made it, but…”</p><p class="p1">“You would’ve made it.”</p><p class="p1">You cut him off with your blurted completion of his sentence. Jeno peers down at you with a surprised expression blown across his face. But did he really expect anything different from you? He was too good not to become a professional baseball player, you know it for a fact he would’ve made it to the big leagues.</p><p class="p1">That cheery grin from before dances by when he nods in contented self-satisfaction and says, “I would have, huh? Been the youngest champion in Bats history, no doubt.” Your lingering recollection of his personality must be so pristine, because he adds on the perfect thing, “Would’ve gotten you your own championship ring, beat everyone else out. Especially Chenle and Jaemin.”</p><p class="p1">The reference to a ring makes you think of another. What comes next is a slow, regretful, heart shredder of a confirmation that you’re really in a dream right now — you glance down at at your ring finger and see two unforgettable gold leaves coiled around it. You’re sure that ring is lost to the churning tides of change. You might not ever get it back and will have to make your conscious peace with the times you were fortuitous enough to have it on display. That ring was the only mote of prideful boasting you'd ever allowed yourself, the symbol that you were Jaehyun's wife at one time.</p><p class="p1">“I loved the ring you picked out, you know?” you murmur. You’d been struck in an instant by the revelation that Jeno had gone to the mall with him that day. That made it all make sense. <em>I’m sure he does</em>, was the way he'd concluded that petrifying final conversation, because he knew then how Jaehyun felt.</p><p class="p1">“Jae finally spilled, huh? I can’t believe it took him that fucking long,” Jeno gripes, in a profane way that would’ve had his father’s assistant reeling in old times. It only causes you to laugh, a genuine belly laugh, first time in who knows how long.</p><p class="p1">You sock him in the shoulder lightly and whine, “I can’t believe you knew and you didn’t tell me.”</p><p class="p1">He teases right back in the usual way he always did, “Name your kid after me, then, won’t you? Jeno Jung has a pretty nice ring to it.”</p><p class="p1">It’s brash and it’s him and it’s nothing you’ve ever considered before. Especially with his choice of last name, like he knows everything is going to work out in the end. You have to keep reminding yourself that this is your own mind's defense mechanism, a desperate kind of fantasy combined with the stark and utter denial of reality. There is a very real chance that absolutely none of this will work out, but you'll cling to that dwindling percentage of hope until the bitter, bitter end.</p><p class="p1">“I think someone else gets dibs on that,” you defer despite your blush, knowing exactly how Michael, Jeongah, and Mark would operate in the instant the latter might be blessed with a child. However, saying a straight no to him is something you could never do. You cave, “But maybe a middle name.”</p><p class="p1">Jeno beams, absolutely victorious - one flash of his crescent moon grin before he goes back into serious, mature contemplation. He’s a man now, not a boy, though you’re sure you’ll forever see him as one. It hurts just one ounce, that in his maturation you can’t read him as easily as you used to, but that is immediately overcome by a rush of respect for the person he would’ve developed into.</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t know for sure you guys were meant for each other in that way,” he admits, pensive and tender as he loses himself in the memory, eyes closed. “At first I thought it was just him one-upping the crush Mark and the boys all shared at one point. But I saw you on the stairs together at the greenhouse andd I’d never seen either of you look like that. When you told me, it felt right. I could tell he made you happy.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m so glad I told you. That meant everything to me, J,” you confess, earnest with wanting him to know how unburdened you felt at that moment, that he allowed your vulnerability to take precedence in his final moments. Just another example of his shining goodness. You hold him to you, extra tight, and you swear the same thing, “I’ll love you forever. I promise.”</p><p class="p1">“Is it bad?” he blurts out of nowhere. When you glance up his way, to figure out what he’s meant by that, he quickly readjusts to a more careful tone, “That I’m almost… glad... something so terrible happened again?”</p><p class="p1">You’re not willing to accept any longer that this is your mind making it up. There is nothing else Jeno could’ve said right then that would’ve been so perfectly him. You're not siblings by blood, yet you are still sewed together with the same spool of thread. How many times have you wished to look upon Jeno’s face again, to have one last moment, a single conversation, anything to undo the horror of the way you last parted. That was a pipe dream, a childish hope of yours that never came true until now. You don’t even care that it’s come at the expense of an incident this tragic. If careening this close to death was the only way, you’d take it each and every time, no hesitation.</p><p class="p1">“I wanted this to happen every day since you left,” you breathe out, fingertips wiping away a tear from your face, then one from his, “I desperately wanted to see you somewhere other than my nightmares.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, head tilting to lean against yours as you stare out into the lustrous expanse of white nothingness together. “From now on, you’ll only see me in the pretty dreams.”</p><p class="p1">The two of you sit there in thoughtful silence, holding each other and convincing yourselves you’re okay with this being the last embrace you’ll get. The sunny feeling is back, the wind in your hair and the grass at your feet, this is the perfect finale to the memories of old. You know for certain that you will never close your eyes and see him drenched in his blood again, watch your tears fall on his face, feel his hand falling from yours. You’ll think to this moment, sitting side by side with Jeno on this hill, and be nothing but joyful.</p><p class="p1">You should go. You can’t keep his brother waiting any longer, you need to tell Mark about this. And this hill is lovely, but it is not yours.</p><p class="p1">You reach to ruffle his hair, to offer a cheerful farewell instead of a sad one, “Seeya around, kiddo.”</p><p class="p1">You think he’s going to disappear like Yuta and Seulgi did, that you’ll blink and he’ll be gone for good. But Jeno, ever faithful, ever unyielding, stays prominently within the strains of your vision, a steady beacon you can focus on as the clouds start to multiply in size. He’s stayed purely good, your memory of him is untainted. Seeing him once like this is enough for you to know he’s at peace.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n!” he calls, lost somewhere in the beckoning whiteness that’s starting to take a hold over you. Goodbye, goodbye, this is a beautiful goodbye.</p><p class="p1">“Jeno!” you call back, waving gleefully like you’re dropping him off for his first game with the Bats, proud beyond belief of the young man he is. “I forgot to say that Mark says hi!”</p><p class="p1">Jeno waves once more - handsome, brave, cool, and preciously yours - then you hear his melodic voice for the final time, “I wanted to stay with you, I wanted to more than anything. I still do. But at least I left knowing you were happy. I was happy, too. Tell him that.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>-END OF INTERLUDE: UTOPIA-</strong>
</p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>first off, for those of you who might watch grey's anatomy i would like it known that i wrote this far before they ever introduced the beach flashbacks lmao. i swear i didn't copy it hahahaha</p><p>second, thank u everyone for reading. this was one of my favorites.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. lavandula angustifolia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You need to be careful. If you consciously take action to destroy the dam holding his presence at bay, you’re soon going to find yourself drowning in him</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw: brief suicide mention</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong>-EPILOGUE-</strong>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“J?”</p><p class="p1">Did that croaking sound really come from your mouth? You were speaking just fine to Jeno only seconds ago, and now it’s like you’re a pack a day smoker with how that single syllable ground out. There’s way more color when you blink this time, not that blinding white-covered hill that had marked your final conversation with Mark’s brother.</p><p class="p1">“Sweet pea.” At the recognizable nickname, you force your eyes completely open from the slight gap they’d been at before, view still slightly unfocused. The voice repeats, “Sweet pea, it’s me, it’s your dad.”</p><p class="p1">That slams your vision into clarity, and you twist your head ever so slightly to see your father bent over your bed, absolutely shocked to be meeting your eyes. Your lips pop together as you try to wet them, skin cracking as you groan, “Dad? Where am I?”</p><p class="p1">When his hand comes to cradle your head, a sensation of fiery warmth — much more tangible and real feeling than the false sensation of an arm around your shoulders —burrows its way into your skin. Followed by the honey soothing of your dad’s soft, “You’re home, my sweet little pea, you’re finally home.”</p><p class="p1">He’s still framed in a blur, you can’t make out much else other than his face. “Home?”</p><p class="p1">A hand slips within yours, and though it literally aches to move your head the other way, you have to gaze upon your mother’s glassy eyes as she weeps while telling you, “In Tactix. You’re here with us in Tactix, honey.” She prods your father urgently, “Let’s get the nurses in here, make her more comfortable.”</p><p class="p1">Your vision starts to return in bits and pieces as the medical staff rushes in to work on you. They do a battery of tests, blood, vitals, oxygen, testing your reflexes and brain capacity, unhooking you from machines and tubes alike. It’s a very specific kind of carving distress, the sensation of these different parts of your body coming alight in staggered increments. So you focus on what you can see, the quilt at the foot of the hospital bed you’re in, the Hyun Bin poster you’ve had on your wall since you were twelve, the cup of pencils still on your desk. Home, you’re home. And you’re alive.</p><p class="p1">Once one of the male nurses helps your father lift you, with minimal contortion, into the comfort of your actual bed, you try again to clear your throat and speak, “Have I—, have I missed Christmas? I haven’t bought any presents yet.” Your vision is still not strong enough to see out the window, but you’re expecting to see the first snow cascading down outside. You needed to get Johnny an extra special gift this year so he would stop being mad at you.</p><p class="p1">“Christmas? Honey, it’s March fourth right now.”</p><p class="p1">Your head wants to snap back in surprise, but the atrophy of your neck muscles only brings forth a wobbling loll and your utter confusion, “Wait, March….? Wasn’t it, November twenty-third…. I thought it was November.”</p><p class="p1">Your dad climbs onto the foot of the bed, and another sear of comforting heat goes through your knee when he grabs your leg, like he’s convincing himself you’re actually there. He softly explains, “You got hit hard at the end there, kiddo, though you hid it pretty well. I didn’t even know that man had gotten you until Mark screamed like he did.”</p><p class="p1">Right, you were in that hospital bed they’re wheeling away because… you’d been stabbed. Almost bled out on the floor of the Pandora Building. Right, right, right. But how did your parents know? The paramedics must’ve told you about what happened physically, but how did they know about Mark?</p><p class="p1">“Wait, did all of that…” You wrack your brain to think of that final, convoluted plan. “Did all of that make it onto the broadcast?”</p><p class="p1">“That boy with the bunny teeth did a great job with the camera work, smart idea to use him that way. He told us all about it.”</p><p class="p1">The mention of your friend is a surprise. “Doyoung was here?”</p><p class="p1">“He comes by when he's feeling sad about his dad, but everyone’s been here at least once. I swear, we’re like an Airbnb nowadays,” your father jokes, seeing if he can lighten your mood.</p><p class="p1">He succeeds, but when you try to laugh, you feel a sharp, devastating clench of your insides, the sensation of the knife ripping through you once again. “Ugh,” you snap, shuttering your eyes closed until it subsides, “that fucking hurt.”</p><p class="p1">Your mother reaches a gentle hand behind your head, helping you to sit in a more comfortable position, saying, “You hurt because you’ve been sleeping for three months. The doctors say you’ve healed up really well, the scar this time has already faded so nicely.”</p><p class="p1">You thought it would come, but the mention of a scar does not send you reeling in broken anxiety this time around. It’s a quiet acceptance, that you’ll have a permanent reminder of what you’d done for the nation. You even find it within yourself to joke back, “No chrysanthemum poison this time, huh?”Your parents smile softly at each other, pleased to see bits of the old you, but that slips away when you ask the burning question, hesitating and stilted, “Three months… Why didn’t you just… let me go?” Not that you’ve ever contemplated a will or end of life measures, something you realize you probably should’ve put in writing. But they should’ve known not to let you suffer.</p><p class="p1">“Wasn’t a, pardon the bluntness, pull the plug type scenario,” your father explains, mildly uncomfortable but pushing himself through for your understanding, “Brain activity was good, muscles stayed as strong as they could, your insides fixed themselves well after your surgeries. They said you weren’t suffering, and it was only a matter of time for us to wait for you.”</p><p class="p1">That sounds like the most ludicrous crock of shit, but it’d come to fruition all the same. You still have to ask, “How?”</p><p class="p1">“No idea. Doctors didn’t know, either. We joked saying you were trying to decide if you wanted to wake up to our nagging or not.”</p><p class="p1">The breeze of a dreamy moment hits you square in the chest, someone saying <em>I don’t think we decide if we live or die, if you’re asking. </em>You don’t know why that makes you suddenly nervous, bursting with questions, “W-what happened since? I remember Mark going after Premier Kim, and not much else besides that.”</p><p class="p1">“You just woke up, sweet pea, we can talk about the details after you’ve had some time to recover,” your mother soothes, her firm hand on your arm an unspoken message to calm down and take it slow.</p><p class="p1">But you’re on this path now, you have to find out why you have this itch of apprehension. You stonily remind them, “According to you, I’ve been recovering for months.”</p><p class="p1">“Hon, it’s okay,” your father reassures your mother, before turning to you and offering, “you ask, and we'll answer.”</p><p class="p1">“Mark?” He’s always the first, you need to know this first.</p><p class="p1">“He’s fine, he’s with his parents in the capital,” your father answers without hesitation, which means he’s not lying. A deluge of relief washes through you as he continues on, “Mark’s come to see you as much as he can, but they’ve been incredibly busy in the time since. The last he visited was on Valentine’s Day.”</p><p class="p1">“He’s in Pandora?”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, the capital’s not Pandora anymore. It is now <em>Dragon’s City</em>,” your dad reveals. This is the first sign that things have actually changed in your convalescence. The capital is no longer the capital, now it’s named after Taeyong, a name half the nation wouldn’t have even considered before. “It’s not far from here, up the river a few miles, in an old city that was abandoned when the border line was cut off to demarcate Pandora.”</p><p class="p1">“Who did that?” you question, eager, curious as to how all of this had unfolded.</p><p class="p1">Your father smiles softly at your vivacity, but he slows it back down to not overwhelm you, “One thing at a time. Mark lives there right now because of his schedule. He and John own a couple apartments they rent to make money, and live in one together, isn’t that right, honey?”</p><p class="p1">“Right,” she once again confirms the safety and health of two of your best friends, adding on, “They keep one for that young man Ten when he visits from Black Pearl Cove. Plus, Johnny finally got cleared by his physical therapist to start teaching a taekwondo class.”</p><p class="p1">“What about Yuta, Seulgi, Suho, Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, everyone?” It comes tumbling out, you need to know everything right now, these cookie crumbs aren’t enough, you have a yearning for each and every painful little detail.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, sweet pea, calm, calm. We’ll tell you everything, take it easy. Baekhyun and Suho are fine. Took the loss of their crew hard, but the two of them have been thriving in LA with that Kai boy ever since. I think they’re working on an album, he always calls from the studio. Anyone else you want to know about?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, Yu—,”</p><p class="p1">Before you have the chance to reiterate you want to hear about Yuta, your father barrels forward with a bunch of frivolous information that you appreciate, but don’t particularly care about, “I think your old driver is getting a professorship teaching Chinese historical literature at Harvard, he might be leaving Dorado soon. Oh, and when Doyoung was here, he said he was going to have a blossom ceremony with his girlfriend sometime in the summer.”</p><p class="p1">Your mother takes over before you can speak again, sharing a look with her husband you can’t decipher as she carefully says, “And you need to trust me when I say Kyungsoo is a story for a day you didn’t just awake from a coma in. He’s alive, and he’s safe, but there’s way more we have to sit down and talk about.”</p><p class="p1">The mention of a tough story is not exactly pleasant, but the knowledge he’s alive is a small amelioration of your tension. You do remember a nano-drop of horrible circumstance that he was wrapped up with in the end with Mr. Jung, a flashing knife in the air, but Kyungsoo has survived. Yet this is not the end of it, there’s more, they’re not telling you everything.</p><p class="p1">“Now come,” your father gestures, cutting you off for a third time when you open your mouth, “should we get you something to drink?”</p><p class="p1">“Yuta and Seulgi, where are they?” you burst out, unwilling to let this sit anymore. They’d confirmed John and Mark being safe, you just need them to do so for your third best friend. “Did they come by?” There it is again, that look that has escalated your tension into fear, pleading fear that boils into your voice as you ask again, “Mom, Dad, where’s Yuta?”</p><p class="p1">“Sweet pea, let’s have a talk, okay?” The second your father’s eyes careen into melancholy, and his voice softens into the coaxing, comforting tone he used when you were a child sick in bed, you know.</p><p class="p1">“No, no,” your voice breaks, throat cracking completely open with the immediate return of grief, “Dad, no.”</p><p class="p1">The walls of your room are dripping with the blood you remember, the spray of Yuta’s life volcanoing out of the slash across his neck. The hard roar of a warning that the next person in the room would be shot. The musical note that spilled from Seulgi’s lips when she was hit, how he was bombarded in an eerily parallel manner.</p><p class="p1">“Those two….. they went together,” he tries to be vague about it, but your mother’s cough tells him to give it to you straight, “they died together, they didn’t make it. Paramedics got there in time for you but not for them.”</p><p class="p1"><em>Oh, Yuta. </em>The tears are threatening their staunchest assault yet, you’re on the brink of a devastating breakdown you might not be able to come back from. However, you are also gripped with this sense of peace, like you’re being hit with the notion that he wouldn’t want you to be sad. The war in your emotions is so heavily fought you can do nothing but sit there as your parents become overcome with grief in your stead, droplets spilling down your mother’s cheeks as she details,</p><p class="p1">“There was a huge state funeral for all of them together. Yuta got full military honors and is buried in Neozone, and Seulgi, Dohun, and their family got laid to rest in Oasis. They also had markers placed at the new national cemetery they opened for dignitaries and government officials.”</p><p class="p1">“I think that’s also why Suho has stayed away in LA,” your dad says through his tears. “The Lt. General stuck around for the beginning of the turnover, but he’s mostly been in Japan with his wife since.” How great, Suho and Lt. General Nakamoto were destroyed by the loss of their loved ones to the point they fled the country. Just absolutely great news to hear, great, great.</p><p class="p1">“Did you get my things?” you ask, dull, devoid of feeling, as if the story had sucked the capacity for happiness right out of you.</p><p class="p1">You need to make sure no reminder of Yuta slips past to catch you in a moment where you’re not as steely as you are now, hide the pictures and the memories somewhere you won't be desperate to dig back up. You don’t miss their concerned look, but they don’t press, understanding that one step too far could send you right back to the state that you were in only moments ago. Your father reaches over to retrieve a large, clear plastic bag from where it’s been tucked away behind your bookshelves.</p><p class="p1">“We haven’t gone back to your house. But what you took to the capital with you we got back, they had it all sent over a few weeks into your sleep,” he explains as he carefully places it on the space of the bed beside you. He can’t let go of how quickly you’d turned away from the news of your best friend’s passing, and asks in concern, “Are you okay?”</p><p class="p1">When he tries to reach his hand out to pat your hair, you purposefully shy away from the contact, muttering, “Yeah, I just want to be alone.” More than that, you think you might be sick, you need to get them out of the room so they don’t have to watch. You purposefully turn your head away from him, to look to the edge of peeling blue wallpaper by your ceiling. He steps back, very, very hesitant, torn between wanting to do both duties as a father - to let you have your space or to worry over you.</p><p class="p1">“Sweet pea, you didn’t ask about Jaehyun.”</p><p class="p1">A crippling bolus of nausea gags its way into your throat at your mother’s statement. You’re glad you’re facing the opposite way from them, they don’t catch how you involuntarily dry heave at his mention. You didn’t ask because you’ve been purposefully suppressing the memory this whole time. You’ll never forget it, even if you slept for a thousand years you could never erase the image of Jaehyun with that lava of blood spilling from the depths of his pretty heart, how his eyes had tick, tick, ticked away from the lively gorgeousness they always held.</p><p class="p1">You gulp away the vomit to mumble, “Why should I? You’re just going to tell me he’s dead, like I already know.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n….” Your father’s sigh nearly makes you retch all over yourself, before the quiet, contrasting statement comes out instead, “He’s not.”</p><p class="p1">You nearly break the tender bones in your neck with the speed you whip your head around to glare back at them. If they’re lying to you, you will never, ever, <em>ever</em> forgive them.</p><p class="p1">You feel faint, though you don’t know if it’s because you don’t realize you’re holding your breath, or because your father is actually sobbing so hard he can’t finish the story. Your mom has to take over, oh-so slowly, “He was hurt way, way worse than you, I think they had to shock his heart like three times before he went into surgery, it took something like sixteen hours to fix the stab wound. But he was up and about so much faster, I’m not sure how it happened.”</p><p class="p1">He’s fine? Jaehyun is fine, he’s really fine? This is too detailed of a story for them to have made up in an effort to appease you, right? Right?</p><p class="p1">You think of what they’ve told you today, and you ask, “Wait, so is he like… in Pan— Dragon’s City with Mark and John?” It makes sense, they grew up together, they did everything together.</p><p class="p1">“No, honey, no he’s not,” your mother denies as she sinks down on the comforter beside you. You’re so blown apart by what’s unfolding, you don’t even have the presence of mind to ask her not to gently brush her hand through your hair. “Once the UN Peacekeeping Council—,”</p><p class="p1">“The what?”</p><p class="p1">She gives your forehead a soft little poke, like you’re a kid again, and divulges, “Turns out, when you destabilize and overthrow a centuries old government on national broadcast, the outside world steps in to intervene. The Council dispatched a task force for our nation’s easy transition into democracy.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t even begin to wrap your head around that. It’d actually worked, the stunt you and Mark and Yuta came up with as a bottom of the ninth walk off grand slam plan actually worked? All you can muster is a stunned, “Wow,” which rapidly reverts back to the topic you can never let go of, the innate need to know that he’s okay, “But, what does that have to do with Jae?”</p><p class="p1">Again, they look at each other in hesitation, and you brace yourself for the bad news as your mother starts off again, “Sweet pea, Jaehyun’s dad, he killed himself. Kyungsoo tried to stop him, but couldn’t.”</p><p class="p1">That circumstance Kyungsoo survived was Mr. Jung taking his own life. Kyungsoo had gone out of his way to prevent the other man from having a parent ripped away just like he did and failed. You definitely feel like you might be sick.</p><p class="p1">Your father notices the discomfort and tries to hurry this along, “Right, well, obviously they had to investigate his father’s role in what had happened, but it was relatively quick for them to clear Jaehyun and his mother of any involvement in the scheme. But they were all over the news, all the time, and not in a good way. Michael is pretty sure it was all his mother. She really couldn’t handle it, the constant questions, people looking at her, knowing what her husband did. So, as soon as he was healed enough to move, they packed up and left the city with their housekeeper. That was maybe… around New Years’?”</p><p class="p1">Okay… that is honestly, not too bad. You’d wanted to run away any number of different times after what happened with Jeno, the urge to escape is probably a natural one in those sort of circumstances. Especially considering the final conversation you’d had with Jaekyung - that she would do anything to protect her son - and what you know about how much she valued social status. Their extended family had all sorts of summer homes around Dorado, you’re sure they’ve gone to one of those until things calm down.</p><p class="p1">Your mother then maneuvers back into the conversation, because only she can make, “Honey, we and Mark have not heard from him. And I’m not sure we will,” not feel like you’re watching Jaehyun waste away in front of you all over again.</p><p class="p1">Every nerve ending in your body goes a slight degree below glacial, you can practically feel each individual cell freeze with trepidation.</p><p class="p1">They pick up on your reaction, too, because your father makes sure to clarify, “He’s alive, he’s still alive, even though we don’t know where he is. Mark sends us the very, very infrequent social media posts his mother puts up, but that’s it.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay. Great. Whatever,” you bite out, no longer interested in entertaining the topic. Jaehyun’s gone. He’s gone.</p><p class="p1">“Do you want to talk—,”</p><p class="p1">“No.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, honey.”</p><p class="p1">You assume they leave, there’s the slight shuffling of feet and the whispered creak of the door hinge as it’s brought back into place, but you don’t see it happen. You can’t take your eyes off the brown leather of your wallet stowed away in the bottom of the meager effects bag. You thought this was lost forever. But here it is, sitting there like it’s been waiting just for you. You’d kept the ring he gave you — Jeno’s golden ring — hidden away in the dollar pocket just so you could have him close to you while you were apart. He’d kept a picture of you in the breast pocket of all his coats, for the same reason. But it feels wrong to lean on the ring as a crutch right now. Your parents had said it themselves, your plan worked — the government’s massive problems no longer rest on your shoulders, and you hadn’t been martyred along the way. For better or for worse, you’ve come out of it in one physical piece. The status of your emotional state is much more in question, but small victories.</p><p class="p1">They have to be lying though, they have to be taking a careful approach to make sure their recently comatose daughter doesn’t perturb herself further. You’ve been awake for a few hours at most, haven’t had a chance to talk to Mark and get his side of things. Maybe your parents hadn’t even tried to contact Jaehyun and are now trying to pass it off as radio silence from his end. You don’t see your old phone nor the Nokia amongst your belongings, but you have a way of figuring this out: your old landline phone, still on your desk from where it’s been since your thirteenth birthday.</p><p class="p1">You muster up the strength to crawl out of bed, nearly tumbling to the floor when your legs seize with disuse, toddling along like a child to collapse against your desk chair. The two, three steps have you wheezing in exhaustion, you have to lean your head over the furniture to send the bright spots of vision away, breathe in and out hard to calm the whine of your lungs.</p><p class="p1">But even then, you’re already reaching for the heavy receiver, and dialing a number you’ve had memorized for years, recalling a voicemail greeting you could sing every silvery syllable of like it was your favorite karaoke song,</p><p class="p1"><em>Hahahaha shut up! Agh, it’s recording, Marco! - </em><strong>H</strong><b>ey, this is Jae </b><em>— Jae! Shhh, be quiet y/n, he’s saving his voicemail! </em><b>Oh my god, shut up! Ah, not you who’s leaving the message, sorry I’m</b>— <em>don’t make me laugh, please! Hahahahaha I can’t be quiet— </em><b>just leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Shut up guys!</b></p><p class="p1">You remember exactly when he’d recorded it - after getting a new phone for college graduation. You remember all of the rest of it, Mark’s sweet laughter as John had teased him about something, Yuta shushing you when you interrupted, Jaehyun had wanted to save it all on his voice message because he thought it was the perfect representation of your friendship. This message is exactly what you expect to hear when you press the last digit of Jaehyun’s phone number in, not the direct and jarring snap to a dial tone. You think you may, in your hazy consciousness, have perhaps misdialed a digit, so you take your time and laboriously re-type it out, one by one. Again, the dial tone. Not even a smidgen of ringing.</p><p class="p1">That’s where your parents find you after the sun has taken its merry turn upon the sky - ear pressed into the receiver so tightly the markings in the plastic now have twins upon your skin, heart in utter denial that each of the times you’ve called Jaehyun today, he has not answered.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Hi, sweet pea.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t look up from your book at the feel of your mother sinking down onto the couch beside you, glimpse of her sewing basket in her lap visible from your periphery. You’re too engrossed in this one particularly sappy passage in Pride and Prejudice at the moment. <em>You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.</em></p><p class="p1">“Hi, Momma,” you greet her in return, continuing to read, “Dad out getting dinner?”</p><p class="p1">“He’s watering the garden, then he’ll go for the pizza. Bluebells look like they’ll come early this year. The zinnias are already blooming, too.”</p><p class="p1">She sounds like she wants to have an actual conversation, so you begrudgingly put down the book to talk to her. Though she has an expanse of white fabric in her lap she should be focusing on, she’s instead gazing at you with a concerned, motherly look, the same expression she’s tended to wear around you now that you’ve been up and about for a few weeks.</p><p class="p1">Today is the first time you feel ready enough to give her shit for it, “Oh, Mom, what is that look about?”</p><p class="p1">She quickly composes herself into nonchalance, “What? I can’t come over and see if my daughter finally wants to do a bit of sewing? Or is that off limits again.”</p><p class="p1">You know she’s roaring to ask you how you are, to fawn and hover like she’s done every second. She's always butting her nose in, except if you’re on yet another failed phone call with Jaehyun. You want it to get back to normal, you give her your best sarcasm instead, “I had a stomach injury, Mom, it wasn’t my hands. You’ve been tiptoeing around this, give me a needle.”</p><p class="p1">“Really?”</p><p class="p1">“Really,” you confirm as you reach over her for a needle before she can stop you. “What are you sewing?”</p><p class="p1">She doesn’t usually sew on tulle, but you know she’s picked up some work here and there as a seamstress for some other families in Tactix. Maybe she’s making a christening gown for a baby or something. There are all sorts of little flowers you can see, in a pattern that’s not quite one, really just a lovely mishmash of a soft reminder of home. She’s still staring even as you pick up the length of white thread and carefully tie off a knot, creaky fingers getting used to moving in this way again. But when the needle goes through the tulle and you have a neat stitch before you without incidence, her voice floods with warmth, “Just doing some practicing on my flower embroidery. I worked a lot on this while you were sleeping, it kept my mind off things. You feeling good today?”</p><p class="p1">You give an experimental flex of your legs under the draped fabric, pleased to not feel any licks of soreness for once. You tell her, “Pretty great, I took a few laps around the house with Dad before you woke up from your nap, didn’t get tired.”</p><p class="p1">“Great, your doctors and physical therapist sent over the report that you are officially all cleared with your health, and are free to resume daily life as you see fit.”</p><p class="p1">“I feel good, Mom. Really.”</p><p class="p1">Sewing again, though it’s just the little stellaria you only feel skilled enough to mark out along the edge of the fabric, has you feeling your best since you woke up. You haven’t had a slice of normal life with your parents in what’s closer to a decade now, and you’re really cherishing it.</p><p class="p1">Even if she uses this opportunity to slyly pry, “Have you reached out to anyone…?”</p><p class="p1">She has never pointedly brought up the fact that you call Jaehyun’s blank phone every day, but she’s curious as to why she’s been in contact with your friends and you haven’t. No use in lying anymore, you give her the truth, “Not yet. But don’t worry, I’m just. I’m waiting to feel a bit more settled about everything we’ve talked about.” Not like you believe in the supernatural, but you want to have some sort of true feeling of peace before you attempt to dive back into your previous attachments.</p><p class="p1">“Your therapist says you’re making great progress, too.”</p><p class="p1">Your medical care team had given you the option of seeking professional help to work through your trauma. Unlike in the past when you shied away from it, you were more receptive to the option this time around. You are significantly less alone in the present, and it was far less daunting to go to your first appointment knowing you could do it in the safety of your room. Plus, you have your parents to come to after the sessions are over. But you’re surprised the doctor had made that comment to your parents, considering you felt like all you did was recall the stories in a very rigid, detached way. You don’t think you’ve even shed a tear, not yet.</p><p class="p1">You say as much to your mom, “Really? That’s been so weird, you know. Telling someone else all that happened makes it seem way different.”</p><p class="p1">“Different in what way?” she asks. To be honest, you’re not entirely sure what you’ve implied by that, either. Compartmentalizing these days, months, years of your life is a particularly strange sensation, like you were recalling the story of a woman who’d lived centuries ago. As if you’d read it in a history book.</p><p class="p1">“I think I realized I should be way more grateful to be here with you now,” you admit in a soft voice, “hearing it back made it feel like there were so many moments I could’ve just… left forever.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t even mean it in a particularly self-destructive way. There were indeed far too moments of crippling depression, harrowing isolation, dread, anxiety, fear, all emotions you should’ve never experienced that keenly. But you really mean that there were far too many literal instances of your body being in mortal harm that you cannot believe you’ve survived. Your mother, bless her heart, has taken this as a sign to give you some breathing room. She only reaches to gently squeeze your knee in reassurance over the wisp of tulle tickling it.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">There’s a knock on the front door of your cottage, and she nods her head over, encouraging you to get up and stretch your legs once more today, “Oh, that must be Dad, forgot his wallet.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You pass off the tulle so she can keep sewing, and take a lazy meander over to the entryway, shuffling some shoes aside and then pulling at the doorknob. Your dad should know better than to always leave his wallet behind when he leaves to get food. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">His salutation is immediate when the door is fully wide, “Found someone in the garden, look who it is.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He’s not here for a wallet, there’s another man shrouded behind his tall frame, one whose face you can’t make out. Is he being funny by finally calling the delivery man like you’ve told him to do every time?</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Hello to the Icon of Neozone. Or is it all of Dorado now?” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You know that voice. You know it. </span>
  <span class="s2">You peer around the banister of the entrance, not convinced your ears aren’t playing tricks on you. When the other man steps out from behind your father’s shadow, your jaw drops. You were half sure you’d never see him again. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Michael?” you whisper, dumbfounded, because it’s definitely him. But you don’t believe it.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The two men slap each other in the bro-iest of high fives, and you can hear your mother teasing from the inside, “Dorado’s most beloved man has come all the way to Tactix just for a visit?” </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Michael bends his neck so he can meet her eye with a saucy grin, then drawl out, “Well, I had to come see my borrowed child, didn’t I?” When he looks at you once again, his face melts into the epitome of fatherly tenderness, and then he greets you, so, so cheerful, “Hi, sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Who else calls you sweetheart like this? It’s Michael, it’s Mark’s father. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Hi,” you gasp, bouncing up and down on your feet on the welcome mat. That escalates to truly delighted fidgeting in place, your body echoing your contented warbles, “Hi, hi, hi, hi, oh my gosh.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Should you be doing that?” Michael asks with a grin, eyeing how you’re practically jumping up and down in excitement. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“She’s medically cleared, Michael!”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">At your mother’s confirmation you’re physically fit for an embrace, Michael strolls into your house without a care in the world and sweeps you up in his arms. Like you’re a sack no more than five pounds, he twirls you in a circle and another, the two of you laughing with utter glee that you’ve been reunited like this. Your two homes have melded with his reappearance in your life, and you experience the first glimmer of true happiness since awakening.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">Your mother quietly slips by you to go sit out on the porch with your father and give you some privacy. You can only hold onto Michael’s forearms and ask in excitement, </span>
  <span class="s1">“So, what? You decided you needed an escape into the woods amongst all of your work re-building the nation?”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">They told you that Michael has been playing a big role in transitioning the country into a true democracy, with Hyungsik as his side as an advisor. The prevailing rumor at this time is that he might run as one of the first candidates for president in the fall’s election. Once the truth came out of how he always fought for both regions despite being put at personal risk, citizens took up the moniker of </span>
  <span class="s2"><em>Dorado’s most beloved man</em> for him. </span>
  <span class="s1">You’d be inclined to agree with it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">“I have some big favors I need to ask of you. This is the only free time I have in a bit, so these are going to be super advance notice.”</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Oh no, not favors,” you deadpan.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Fun ones first,” he says with a fond wrinkle of his nose. Michael then leans forward and lowers his voice into a stealthy tone, “Taeil Moon will be posted by the Bats this year. He’s asked us to be present at the ceremony.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Hooo-ly shit!” you yell without realizing. Michael shushes you, not even wanting your parents to hear, and you whisper-hiss, “He’s getting posted?! Do you know where?” </span>
  <span class="s1">When an overseas player made the move to join Major League Baseball in America, their home team would post their contract for negotiation. But Taeil has played his entire career in Dorado. He’s near to retiring, you’d never expected this. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Rumor has it either Boston or New York… Yankees,” Michael clarifies which of the city’s two teams he’d meant. Wow, historic franchises, as expected for a player that good. He warns you again, “But you can’t say anything, this is insider information! The blogs haven’t broken it yet.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You make the gesture of locking your lips with a key, then you nod enthusiastically, “Oh my gosh, yes. Of course I’ll be there.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">He shows you the text he fires off to Taeil’s manager, an <em>M. Kang</em>, and when he looks back up from his phone, his expression is suddenly serious. His words are too, “Now, let’s sit, sweetheart. We have some things to talk about.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">He even approaches you in the same cautious way your parents do. Though you do find it easier to joke with him as he takes your hand, “That’s never good.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing bad, I swear. You trust me?” It’s almost a stupid question, because you trust Michael inherently, trust him with your life. Together, you sink down onto the same couch cushions you were just on, and he starts out,“Okay. Your pops said you’ve talked a lot about what’s happened, so why don’t you walk me through what you know so I can figure out where to start.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You hold in an explosive breath. You’ve discussed current events at length with your parents and with your therapist, but this feels more daunting. Perhaps because you know he possesses the dirty details that will hurt more. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Best move in a neutral, fact-based way, no emotion in your voice, “Well, I know about the UN, I was hit with that in the first hour. Okay, um, Dorado is still Dorado, but Neozone and Elyxion are only cities now, not regions. There is no more Pandora region, there is only the new capital, Dragon’s City.” Though it won’t hurt to throw in a little lighthearted quip, “Our esteemed man in power was strong-armed into helping transition this beautiful place into a democracy, and named the new capital himself.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“I wouldn’t say strong-armed—,”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“I know for a fact you didn’t intend to be released from jail only to be a politician again.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">He sighs resignedly, “Guilty.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Now, it’s all about establishing a new future for the regions. Normalizing being at peace with each other, forming equal connections and relationships between our citizens. With the goal of a truly unified Dorado, whenever that may come.” None of that had been told to you explicitly, but you were the one who set up that finish line first. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“That was all you, by the way,” Michael murmurs, with immeasurable pride. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You’re pricked with a very specific recollection of a couple in yellow and you have to deny, “No, it was Luna.” Michael shoots you a <em>come on you know it was you</em> expression, and you accept it, “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">His smile softens and he goes on, “Okay, so, you have the basics. I’ll give you the gritty shit, you ready?” To be frank, you’ll never be truly ready to hear the exact fallout, but no time like the now to get it over with. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“The UN did a massive, massive house cleaning. The current rule of law was dissolved, all current government members removed from their posts. The Security Ministry was dismantled, Special Forces disbanded. The high priest of Zero Mile has gone on public record numerous times to express his sincerest apologies and has been working with us to correct the reputation his town garnered because of a few. Blood sacrifices have been banned in this nation, as well.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Furthermore, a protocol was established to deliver monetary reparations to any victims of the actions — those bombed at XM and Seventh Settlement, any who died as a result of the conflict, et cetera. Anyone who had direct ties to our former leader were immediately questioned and punished by the International Criminal Court. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Siwon Choi, John Suh Sr., Boyoung Kim, and Daehyun Kim are all being held in prison right now, awaiting their sentencing later in the spring. They will be shipped off to an international penitentiary for life, the court date is only a formality for bookkeeping and protocol fulfillment. Taeyeon Kim and Jefferson Jung were charged with their posthumous crimes alongside the Premier.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1"><em>For life</em>. Those who harmed you are either dead, or will be going to jail for the rest of their lives.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You lean your head straight back into the itchy material of your couch as your eyes flutter shut. You’ve dreamt about that grainy footage of that meeting of the minds more than once in these past few weeks. Hearing this now has loosened a tentacle of dreaded contemplation that had ensnared you. <em>What if they got off? What if no one believed me? What if this was all for nothing? What if Yuta and Seulgi and Jeno died for nothing? </em>But they’re going to receive their consequences. You will never have to look upon their faces again, be tortured in that way. Dorado would be freed from their wretched evil.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Great,” you breathe out, hand curling into itself out of instinct, “that’s…. good to hear.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">His fingers tuck themselves into the miniscule space still open by your thumb, to prevent you from inflicting any damage upon your skin there. Michael continues on after that, “There have been investigations going on to find any deeper ties. Those remotely connected to the government, officials, ministers, soldiers, were all brought in.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Your hand strangles around his, eyes opening to glance at him in panic, “Wait, what about… Mom and Dad didn’t say anything? Am I going to have to do that?” Your therapist is already stretching it, and it’s only because she’s been trained to be as empathetic and helpful as possible. You think you’ll completely fold under the pressure of a harsh UN lawyer who only cared about extracting evidence from you. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Theirs was short, resolved quickly as Exordium was recognized as a refugee aid organization. The three of us worked hard to get them to dismiss your case while you were still under, though they didn’t really have a say in the matter even if they wanted to. I’m sure they could’ve insisted upon it if they thought you had otherwise evilintentions. You made yourself clear in your actions this whole time, y/n.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">This is a churning sea of whiplashed emotions, from terror to relief to anxiety to amelioration. Lots of your actions could’ve been misconstrued. You’d purposefully brought yourself into the inner sanctum of evil in an effort to help and these foreigners could’ve locked you up alongside all the others. It’s a testament to the strength of your family, that they’d waged their own verbal war on your behalf.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The proud grin that returns to his face tells you exactly what’s coming next, “I can’t imagine that people would be happy if you went the same way as them. Lotta pride for you out in the nation as of late, and not just from me.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You get the same embarrassed blush every time someone brings it up. The gushing stories, the personal testaments, how everyone remembered you and Jeno and were not surprised that you were the one who brought it all down. The first headline you’d seen - emblazoned across the lead pages of the paper from that time - has already become your new nickname, <em>The Icon of Dorado. </em>You don’t particularly like it, but you’re grateful that the news cycle has not roared back up after your recovery and that you've been able to lie as low as you possibly can.  The nickname doesn’t make you feel as horrible as the previous version of it did, anyways.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Anyways, they wanted me as a holdover from the old regime, which makes sense with my past. But even I was questioned. So was my wife, Mark, John—,"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Mark was questioned?” you interrupt, surprised by the story for once. “He didn’t do anything.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The air in the room suddenly turns awkward and heavy.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Michael rubs a hand against the side of his bicep, and you finally catch a glimpse of the cratered crescent of flesh carved out of his skin there, from where the bullet intended for you had grazed him instead. He sighs, wounded, then reminds you regretfully, “He did… kill Kyungho.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">It is literally unbelievable that so much had happened that morning that Premier Kim <em>dying</em> had been the biggest afterthought of the whole situation. Those four words are all that is necessary to recall the ferocious cracking sound of bones hitting concrete, Mark’s all consuming rage as he took matters, literally, into his own hands.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my god,” you gasp, another churning whirlpool of tears threatening your eyes. “Oh my god, I forgot. Is he okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You’ve both… you’ve both taken <em>lives.</em> Holy shit, it was never supposed to be like this. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Not always,” Michael admits, his own sparkling tear outracing yours as it drips onto his cheek. “Nobody knows it was him. The official report says his name, but we managed to keep it from the news by just saying Kyungho died in the commotion. But M, he holds a lot of guilt about it. The ICC ruled the act was ultimately in self defense, but they ordered him to mandatory anger management and grief counseling. So we’ve been working through that together.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You let out a harsh exhale as one of your knuckles goes digging into your eye to relieve the built pressure. He’d defended you all in an out of character, yet necessary manner. Thank god, thank<em> god</em> Mark had had his parents by his side this time around. At least he was surrounded by supportive love as he worked through his feelings of trauma. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“I feel so bad,” you sadly grumble. Why couldn’t you have been able to wake up sooner, to be by his side and offer the specific support only you could. “I wasn’t there.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be. I think,” he dances around this particular subject carefully, “I think some space between you two was good, considering some of what he said.” </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>You almost killed bee! I’ll kill you for that!</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You jam your finger into your eye socket as deep as it can go, wincing at the pain, but not a single tear makes its way out. You’re not even sure your body knows how to be properly upset anymore. You can only sit there in dumb silence as Michael tries to mend the wound, “But Mark’s okay, we’ll get him there. And having his mom home has helped a lot, so thank you again.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Of course,” you whisper, keeping your eyes closed so you do not have to see Mark’s face in his.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You’re glad you do, because he hits you with it out of nowhere, “I’m sure you’ve heard about Jae.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah.” It physically hurts to say that short of a word. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">It hurts even more to open your eyes and see how equally distraught Michael is over Jaehyun’s plight as he is about his son’s. His voice actually trembles when he starts off, “That was…. not pretty. He and his mom had to watch that footage of how his dad went out…. too many times.” You can’t even think about it. You’re going to let your mind erase that memory of Jaehyun’s father’s death with the haze of agony billowing from your stomach at that moment.“I felt so bad, but there was nothing I could do beyond giving my best advocacy for the both of them. They got off by the skin of their teeth, again mostly because of the video you put together with Do. I think the ICC decided it was blackmail.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Again, you really can’t make yourself say any more than, “It was.” </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You can’t think about Jaehyun beyond the fifteen seconds you take to be disappointed by a phone call each day. Allowing yourself to let the memory of him consume your mind might destroy you.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“I know. I tried my best to give a statement that reflected what you wanted to say,” Michael says. A small smile graces your face before it disappears with the conclusion of the horrid tale, “And everyone, of course, was totally appalled to find out that Jefferson was from Wolf Way. In some kind of crazy toxic happenstance, I think that actually helped move things along. Really drove the point home that discrimination could not be tolerated. We’re drafting a lot of strong anti-prejudice laws, hopefully those will prevent similar incidences from happening.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">At least one good thing had been borne out of all that suffering. You’re not entirely sure the ends justify the means, but you have no choice in the matter currently. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Do you….” you start, thickly swallowing in a labored effort to get the full question out, “do you?” Fuck, you can’t even finish your own thought you’re so affected by this topic. You just need to know, just one clue. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Michael has been around you long enough to finish that on your behalf, halting your struggle. His answer does not bring you any peace of mind, “Know where he is? No, I don’t, I’m sorry. The boys don’t know either. I cannot fault Jae for that, though. There’s a lot of heavy pain that comes from living here. I’ve thought about moving too many times."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“Same,” you echo. It’s a unique sort of agony that you only know too well. It’s been an uncountable number of times you’ve wished desperately for an avenue to escape to the end of the earth furthest away from this salted place. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">“But this is our home. The reason I said yes to all this, why all three of us have been working so hard, is that it feels like our duty to make it better.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You sit there, side by side, in contemplative silence. Michael has watched you grow up, it only makes sense that he is able to read you in this way. You and Mark had promised that final night that you would fix the country so kids like Jeno would have the opportunity to flourish into their intended futures, or you would die trying. Since you’d both come out the other end, it almost feels as if you owe this sacred land your tender, helping hand. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You lean your head into your propped up hand to look at him once more, and you recall, “You started this conversation by saying you wanted to ask me a favor.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">The droplets of sadness wash away with a douse of determination, a sparkle in Michael’s eye as he asks, “Are you up for a business trip?” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“You know I’m just an unemployed freeloader,” you quip, in the haughty manner you’d grown accustomed to when that joke came around, “that’s what I’ve always been.”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">There’s no beating around the bush, Michael gets straight to it, “Kyungsoo’s trial is coming up. And it would really help if you came to Dragon’s City.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">God, Kyungsoo.</p><p class="p1">Your mother was right when she said he was a story for a different day. It’d taken them nearly from morning til dusk to get the whole tale out, what with the amount of mitigating pauses you’d had to take to calm your grinding heart rate.</p><p class="p1">He’d taken matters into his own hands, you’d remember that from after you’d gotten stabbed. He used his strategic advantage of the role he never cared for and ordered, as the Premier, to stop the war before it even fully began. He’d thrown himself at Mr. Jung to try and stop his determined, end-of-life actions of slitting his throat. Apparently, after that, he’d instructed General Zhang to round up all the Special Forces soldiers in the city so they could not act unattended, to arrest all the associates of his father’s that he had insider knowledge of. He’d basically laid the entire groundwork for the UN before they’d arrived the next morning. Kyungsoo had held on to the country with his bare hands, kept it from falling apart into tatters.</p><p class="p1">The part that required a very pointed, extended break in the storytelling, was hearing how he’d been arrested on the spot in his office. How he’d been thrown into the same block of detention cells those villainous men were kept in. None of the evidence you’d provided for him, not even the CD he made himself, gave him the benefit of the doubt. It is all regretfully understandable, considering his seeming easygoing acceptance of his father’s mantras.</p><p class="p1">But that discussion session with your parents had promptly ended when they brought up how he sobbed until he vomited upon seeing his mother’s corpse. You couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t listen to another detail. Kyungsoo hadn’t deserved that. He hadn’t deserved it at all. He’d already lost a fiancée, that was unbearable.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Michael sorts you with an understanding smile when your fingers nervously tug at a loose string on the couch. “The court is ultimately trying to determine whether he was a willing accessory to the crimes of his father. Key word, willing. Again, he faces significant prison time if he is convicted. But if he’s acquitted, he only needs to complete a displacement period away from the country, which is for his sake more than ours.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“He didn’t do anything,” you retort as soon as he’s finished, never more sure of a fact. Kyungsoo hadn’t done a single thing wrong, every action he had taken was in deliberate care to look out for you, and you only. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I know. But you know better than us, better than anyone,” Michael reaches out to brush his fingers against your hair, words coming out thoughtfully and caring, “We’re lining some witnesses up, but you were going to marry him at one point. That speaks to his character more than any other piece of evidence I can offer.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">That was mere months ago, but it feels like it was just now you’d stood in that awful white dress, preparing to marry Kyungsoo. And it feels like yesterday you’d returned from the old Elyxion Regent’s office with an unfinished marriage license in hand. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know….” you sigh, speaking as you think in a semi-lucid daydream, “Discussing this in private is fine, even with my therapist I’m cool with it. But in public? Where everyone can hear? And judge? That’s scary, that’s very scary.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">His hand settles around your shoulder, an anchor of strength and reassurance, then he gives an offer, “You’ll only have to read a statement. That’s it. We’ll have it prepped for you, even.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You understand as a fundamental concept that Michael looks out for everyone. He’s generously good-hearted, maybe even does too much for those around him. But you just have to ask,“Why are you doing this for him? It wasn’t his fault, but he almost ruined everything.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s pure soul, the one that lives in Jeno, shines through when he admits, “It was really Jeongah who asked me. When Mark told us about what you guys saw, she couldn’t believe it. She was so devastated that she was the ultimate root of her sister’s death. I was the one who had to plan for the small funeral because she couldn't stomach it, and even now she doesn’t like to speak about it. My wife’s own sister betrayed her strongest held ideals, died because of all this, and now he has no one. He’s my nephew. He’s family."</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Which means Kyungsoo is still your family by proxy.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">It’s the right thing to do. You’re healed physically, feel like you’re starting to form an emotional scar that’s not so fresh, but you do need to sit on it for a while. Figure out a way to make yourself okay with putting this out there for the world to hear from your lips, not just from a recording. But Michael has come all the way here, and you will not let him leave disappointed. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">“Okay,” you concede with a breath, “okay, I’ll think about it. It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">“I wouldn’t expect anything more. That’s my girl.”</p><p class="p1">Though you hadn’t known Michael when you were a child, the way he so carefully cocoons you into another hug — you curled into his side, his chin pressed into the top of your head as he holds you — brings back nothing but the memory of childhood innocence.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">You’re waiting for the timer on the microwave to tick down when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. A wide smile spreads across your face when you see your parents together, arm in arm, rather dressed up in a manner you weren’t expecting. Your father’s purple tie matches your mother’s skirt, and he’s even got his nice dress shirt on, while she’s pulled out her wedding jewelry to wear. You hadn’t even realized she’d gotten up from working on that bit of white tulle that always seemed to sit in her lap. You’d put down the needle yourself to go for a lap around the house, then cook food for all of you, but you’re glad they’re doing something different.</p><p class="p1">“Wow, you two are looking nice,” you compliment, not having seen them look so relaxed and happy together in some time, “date night somewhere special?”</p><p class="p1">“Just leaving early for dinner. You want to come?” your dad offers, jutting his chin out to where your plate is spinning away inside the appliance. “You can’t possibly eat microwave enchiladas another day.”</p><p class="p1">You know you can’t stay hidden away forever, even though you want to more often than not. Going out to a restaurant is something you’ll have to do eventually. May as well start off small with the places here, where you have a greater chance of going unnoticed, especially among the early afternoon diners.</p><p class="p1">You shrug, and accept, “I mean. I guess I’ll come. Why not? It’s not like anyone cares about who I am anymore. Kind of.”</p><p class="p1">The both of them light up with joyous surprise, not expecting your agreement, and your mother beckons you over from the kitchen, “Come on, we’ll get you glammed up for once. Indulge me, okay?”</p><p class="p1">You’re feeling extra generous, you guess. they seem to have put some specific effort into getting ready for their date, so you don’t protest at all as your mother leads you back up the stairs and into her room instead of yours. She has a large vanity in the master bathroom, one of the only luxuries she’d previously indulged in. She sits you down on the poofy ottoman and busies herself with hair products and makeup.</p><p class="p1">“All of my clothes here are from when I was like… in middle school, though, Mom,” you point out as you think of what you currently have in your closet, the same five tees you’ve been re-wearing.</p><p class="p1">You’re prepared for her to just find you something of hers from the closet, an old dress that she’s sewn or an extra skirt that will fit you now that you’re older. You’re not ready at all for her eyes to actually go a bit misty before she disappears into the room. Had you accidentally touched a nerve? You know it must upset her that she never got to see the gown you wore to prom, that wasn’t your intention in bringing it up.</p><p class="p1">But she returns, dry cleaning bag in hand, with a different dress. “What about this one?”</p><p class="p1">You don’t understand how you can keep getting so close to crying without it actually happening. You feel the moisture pool in your eyes as you sigh, “Oh, Momma, how do you have this?”</p><p class="p1">“Seulgi, she had no family to return her personal effects to, so Michael took them. He was all of your parents I think, wasn’t he?” The pair of you chuckle at the truer than true fact. “Anyways, he knew it was yours and he gave it to me one of the first few times he visited.”</p><p class="p1">“Give me a second, I’ll put it on.”</p><p class="p1">She exits the room as you hastily step into the shower and close the curtains around you. You’ve taken great precaution to avoid looking at your bare form in any mirrors, not bothered by the scars but not totally ready to see them all at once. You strip in the dark shadows of the bathing area, and the sensation of this fabric touching upon your skin again is completely indescribable. Even clothed, you tend not to linger by any reflective surface, but this time around, your image is hard to ignore. The peach silk organza still fits you as perfectly as ever, it’s as if you hadn’t changed one bit from that young girl who’d been so smitten as she crafted this dress out of love.</p><p class="p1">Your mother peeks her head in from around the corner, and her mouth parts in awe, trembling a bit as she warbles, “You look… so pretty, sweet pea. I don’t think I even have to do anything else.” The dress has always been enough. You’d like to have a little bit of stellaria to put in your hair, but that’s neither here nor there. You’re not in Neozone right now.</p><p class="p1">“Did you make this dress? It looks like you.”</p><p class="p1">Not <em>looks like one of your pieces </em>or <em>looks like something you’d make. </em>It looks like you. It looks like your heart.</p><p class="p1">It comes tumbling out before you can hold it back, “Jaehyun brought me the fabric home from Spain when he was a sophomore in college. It was my Christmas present that year.”</p><p class="p1">It’s the first time you’ve really talked about him in any capacity beyond the business end of his lingering memory. You need to be careful. If you consciously take action to destroy the dam holding his presence at bay, you’re soon going to find yourself drowning in him. But how could you not get so utterly nostalgic about wearing this dress? This dress changed everything, inspired the first instance Jaehyun had looked at you in the specific, unforgettable way he did. You’d really fallen in love with him so many different times, huh?</p><p class="p1">“Things will work out, sweet pea. I know it,” she murmurs as she notices you’re getting swept up in recollection. Which is a very kind thing for her to say, considering you know she sat outside your room in anxiety listening in on you as you’d called yet again this morning. And yet again you were met with the blank tone of nothingness.</p><p class="p1">She coaxes you out of your daydream so you can put on a pair of your old flats, mostly so she won’t have to watch you torture yourself more. When you re-appear at the top of the stairs, the prom, graduation, wedding moment wrapped up all in one, your father immediately tears up when he sees you dressed up like this.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, my y/n,” he sniffs, wiping away more than a few tears, “you are the most beautiful girl.”</p><p class="p1">You don’t feel quite as terribly discontent then.</p><p class="p1">You end up falling asleep almost as soon as the car is backing out of your long driveway, the emotions of the past few minutes doing a number on you coupled with your still growing physical strength. You’re pretty sure you dream the whole time, but there isn’t much of a plot, no characters, no adventure, no memories brought back from the past. It’s almost as if you’ve taken the fabric of your dress and draped your view in it, your vision made up of only melted blushed tones, and there's a ribbon of navy and gold melding together, in imperfect harmony. The dress guaranteed a very special night, but this kind of sweet dream can’t be the only thing.</p><p class="p1">When a jerking motion jolts you awake, the car being put into park, your vision dissolves from that dusted vision of pink into the clear strains of an actual cotton candy sunset, illuminating a snaking strip of azure blue.</p><p class="p1">You’ve been breathless many a time in your life, but never in this way, words wisping out of your throat, “Dad, are we in, I mean. Is this Neozone?” You catch the slight dip of his head in a nod through the rear view mirror as you sit up to eagerly peer through the window, to make sure you’re not making up the structure you’re looking at, “You came all the way to Neozone to have dinner? To Sun &amp; Moon? Did I miss your anniversary?”</p><p class="p1">You don’t get an answer, only your mother’s bluster as she scrambles to get out of the car, “You didn’t drive fast enough on the highway, honey, we’re going to be late!” She grabs your arm after she’s opened the door, and pulls you along in an impetuous speed walk, “Hurry, sweet pea!”</p><p class="p1">A quick peek at the time on your new phone reads that it’s six fifty-seven, meaning you did indeed just drive the more than two hours necessary to get to your old stomping grounds. Through the window, you can see that those are the same waiters uniforms you remember, though the restaurant is weirdly devoid of diners. If their reservation is at seven, a) you’re still early, and b) it’s not like you’re going to have your table given away if you don’t show up at the exact time they’d picked out.</p><p class="p1">You start to whine as you go through the revolving door, “Mom, what?! We can’t be late to a dinner reservation when no one’s he—,” You nearly give yourself a concussion, accidentally taking a step too far into the glass when you see the large poster that’s been set up inside. Written in beautiful, looping cursive, and decorated with the finest small arrangement of roses says the following, which literally steals any remaining breath you have left in your lungs,<br/><br/></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>Guests of the blossom ceremony for Jonathan Suh, Jr. and Wendy Shon, please continue to the private dining room up ahead. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">Like you did with the river, you blink three times to ensure you’re not hallucinating this, each successive time you confirm that is indeed your best friend’s name written up on the poster. <em>Jonathan Suh, Jr. </em></p><p class="p1">“He sent the invitation before you woke up, but we weren’t sure if you were ready to see everyone again,” she explains quietly, holding her hand to the bump that’s sprouted on your forehead. She eyes you in concern, noticing your strangled lack of responses, “Are you mad.”</p><p class="p1">You’re not mad, you’re not at all. But all you can manage is, “Oh my gosh. John.”</p><p class="p1">You walk past them without waiting for them to lead you this time, the hum of an assembled crowd hypnotizing you in following where the sign has pointed you in to. They have the private space set up in an exceedingly cozy manner, nothing extravagant - just small bunches of white flowers of all species scattered amongst the space, on the walls and in the hung vases, the chandeliers dimmed so the multiple strands of fairy lights through the signature dahlias offset the dregs of sunset coming into the window. Those awaiting the festivities are entranced by the soft hum of anticipation, it’s of no consequence to slip in behind some men dressed in military uniforms you don’t recognize, and stand on your tip toes to peek.</p><p class="p1">At the head of the table, head to toe in a stately white suit, a funny daisy tucked by his contrasting red hair, is Johnny. He can’t take his eyes off the small blonde woman beside him - Wendy, who’d saved his life in the operating room, who’d given you the first clue to unraveling all of this when she’d selflessly gone out of the way to help you. You had never gotten the chance to follow up on the shenanigans with hot doctor that he told you about, but from the subtle clues you’d picked up on, they must’ve started meeting up when she was no longer in charge of taking care of him.</p><p class="p1">If the twin blushes illuminating their cheeks are any sign, they are besotted with each other in a way you’ve only hoped for for your companion.</p><p class="p1">Minister Lee is here too with Jungwoo, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, having exchanged his formal robe for a normal jacket with that pearl fabric instead used as a pocket square. He even claps Johnny in a high five and ruffles Wendy’s hair like she’s his own daughter. “Shall we get started, everyone? I know we’re all itching to get to the party,” he laughs as the crowd chuckles in agreement, everybody on the same page that the festivities were the best part of these things.“We will first begin by showing our respect to those who have given you life in the manner that you choose, whether it be to the bloodline that’s raised you, or the chosen individuals that have been freely willing in their tie to you.”</p><p class="p1">This is…. this is different.</p><p class="p1">This is no longer the stilted instruction following of the previously long standing tradition. You’re not sure if he’s done this just for John, but you’re beyond surprised to hear the Minister acknowledge that family is not only your genetics and blood. He’d included the people you’ve crossed paths along the way, who’ve given up a selfless part of themselves just because they are pleased to be with you.</p><p class="p1">Wendy jumps up and down in glee as she air kisses a woman with dark hair who must be her best friend. She then hugs another woman who has the same eyes and curly hair faded into white, and is twirled around by a man with her smile. You don’t even have a moment to feel particularly sad that John only has his mother there to hug, the older woman dabbing away tear after tear as she looks upon her son. Because John does not look an ounce removed from happy, but mostly because <em>Mark</em> is there, too.</p><p class="p1">Mark, your best, best friend, is part of the group Johnny’s chosen to support him, his bright pink hair shining brightly amongst all of the white finery. Ten’s there, and he embraces his bro with enthusiasm. When Mark and Johnny embrace next, eyes closing in gratitude for the other, you feel a sharp prick of emotional wetness in the corner of your eye. There should be three more people up there.</p><p class="p1">“With those that you call your family, please prepare our storied seeds together, pour out the water we’ve brought here from your home.”</p><p class="p1">It’s a harmonious choreography of motion, first, John’s mother removing a terra cotta pot from the box beside her. The two of them have forgone the classic crystal vases for these run of the mill flower holders that they’ve painted together. The smiley face drawn in yellow on the brim is shifted so it grins right in your direction. Mark walks over to the center of the table, where a glass vase filled with merged cold water from Johnny and Wendy’s houses awaits, and pours off a cupful, passing it off to his buddy with a cheeky wink.</p><p class="p1">“Lastly, give thanks to what fills your heart. The person here beside you, your friends, your family. The generous flora of this city, of this beautiful, peaceful country. And pour.”</p><p class="p1">John reaches out his hand to take Wendy’s, the quietest gesture of <em>thank you for being here with me, </em>and all at the front, in the room, even you, close their eyes for a quiet moment. Michael had been right, it does feel like you’re tied to this place more than you’d ever thought.</p><p class="p1">There’s a clink of their glasses, a cheers of a promised future, and then Johnny and Wendy shower the other’s flower pot with the life-giving liquid. There’s no breath to hold, no hold of anticipation, no lick of dread that it might not happen. John’s heart was too true to not go right to the woman who’d care for it forever. His hibiscus is the first to proudly unveil its pink petals, but it does not have to wait long in its lonesome. After one delighted flutter of your heart, the tender, fragrant buds of a complimentary sprig of lavender tiptoe out of the soil.</p><p class="p1">“Congratulations, Mr. Suh, Ms. Shon. You have found your true love!”</p><p class="p1">There’s raucous cheering and whistling, all dusted with the tones of joyous laughter. It’s a breathtaking scene to soak in — John and Wendy hugging each other like they’d like to live the rest of their days tied in an embrace like this one, Mark laughing happily, Ten filming on his phone like he’s Kris Jenner proud of his celebrity children, the parents crying as they stand together. This feels more like a declaration of true love than any other ceremony you’ve been to, save for one in a kitchen that didn’t really count as such.</p><p class="p1">They’ve somehow transformed this tradition and made it the pinnacle of what it means to be from this place.</p><p class="p1">The yelling continues as the couple get up from the table together, preparing to lead the rest of the guests back into the restaurant so the festivities can commence. That spurs you into action, you only have a few seconds before every person in this room is going to turn and see you, who may as well have been a ghost. You don’t need the drama. Turning to see your parents there, equally emotional, you tug them over to the large potted indoor tree, covered in white flowers.</p><p class="p1">You hide in the shadows, then hiss, “Stand in front of me, okay?” They shoot you a confused look and you spell it out, “Everyone’s going to walk right by to get to the dining room and I don’t want to take away from their day!”</p><p class="p1">It is their ceremony, you don’t need to become the spectacle of the night, to churn the rumor mill once again. Nodding in recognition, your parents rearrange themselves so that no one can make out that you’re tucked away between the door and the ceramic finery. They do so with only moments to spare, your thinking fast enough to have you sequestered away for when you hear the expected, excited greeting.</p><p class="p1">“Hey! Mr. y/n’s dad, Mrs. y/n’s mom!” Johnny calls in such a funny, affectionate nickname for them, yelling over the heads of his other buddies to make sure your parents hear. “So glad you got our invitation and could make it!” He gaze passes right over where you’re standing and he doesn’t even flinch. He can’t see you, and he’s more preoccupied with following his new fiancée regardless.</p><p class="p1">Your father waves, deceptive in not giving anything away, “Thank you for having us! Congratulations!” He continues to put on a hell of a performance because he next slaps hands with Ten, and then looks Mark right in the eye to compliment him so casually, “Marco Polo, looking good tonight!,” not mentioning your presence there at all.</p><p class="p1">Mark’s smile brightens considerably when he sees your parents, and he waves as he tries to push past people to approach, “What’s up Mr. y/l/n—,” But where John was not attuned to examining things closely, Mark’s stare immediately shoots past your father’s form, landing right on you behind the tree there.</p><p class="p1">“Hi,” he breathes out, shocked open mouth unable to close.</p><p class="p1">He hasn’t changed a single bit save for the shocking pink of his hair. In fact it’s almost eerie how much it looks like Mark could’ve stepped off the train platform as a seventeen year old right to standing here before you. You see that he’s wearing the eagle tie, the first thing you’d ever sewn just for him, and the moment you smell the comforting presence of his Tom Ford cologne, you completely lose your shit with no preamble. His face disappears from your vision as the tears are finally, blessedly unleashed, a different kind of emotional dam shattering apart. You don’t know if you’re making a scene, if people are looking, you’re just sobbing into your hands, not in any capacity to do anything else.</p><p class="p1">“Is she— is she okay?” Mark’s shocked hesitation stutters out.</p><p class="p1">“That’s the first time she’s cried,” your father’s soft voice is nearly drowned out by your heaving, you can faintly pick up on him rubbing your arm, “I think she’s happy to see you, buddy.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, come here, bee.” At the nickname you haven’t heard in so long you only sob harder. The Tom Ford essence surrounds you with a pair of arms, as Mark takes you into his hold, your face burrowing right into his sturdy chest. You sort of take a step back, but it almost feels like he’s lifting you and doing all the work to move you as he soothes, “It’s okay. It’s okay, shh.”</p><p class="p1">The cool March evening air cascades across your bare arms, and Mark’s embrace tightening around you squeezes the first coherent word out, “Y-you—,” <em>you’re here, you’re safe, you look just like I remember,</em> “your hair looks so ugly!”</p><p class="p1">“Hey!”</p><p class="p1">“The pink will never be a good look on you!”</p><p class="p1">“Why not? We’re matching now after all,” he muses, fingers dashing against the fluttery sleeve over your right shoulder, smoothing it out from where it’s flipped up. You finally feel brave to take a real look into his face, you prop your chin on his chest and stare right into his glossy eyes, his sniff audible in his voice when he gasps, “I missed you. I missed you so much.” He’s wearing the pocket square too, the Lee family pocket square that actually matches you.</p><p class="p1">“I have not…..” you murmur, “I have not been okay without you.”</p><p class="p1">“Me neither. I think John and I. We’ve really just been existing. I’m glad he at least got to have this.”</p><p class="p1">That makes you cry all over again, the idea of all of you languishing in existence separated across the country. You rush to apologize. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”</p><p class="p1">He uses his fingers to gently wipe away the pooled dewdrops, unwilling to ruin his pocket square, and sighs, “I mean, I have to apologize too, then. I was scared. Thought callin’ you would like, ruin things somehow. You were already so hurt, all because of…”</p><p class="p6"><span class="s3">Michael’s voice rings in your ear, </span><span class="s1"><em>I think some space between you two was good, considering some of what he said. </em></span>“Don’t say you,” you warn, but he finishes the sentence anyways.</p><p class="p1">“Me.”</p><p class="p1">Mark looks so unbelievably upset, that he hates you were a victim of the crossfire more than anything. It is such an uncomfortable sight that it becomes your mission to never see him like this again.</p><p class="p1">“Ugh, can we not do this,” you implore, shaking his arms lightly to get him to think with sense. “We both know that neither of us deserve blame. And like, I’m here with you, and I’ve peed into a bag for the past three months, so can you just tell me how things are?”</p><p class="p1">The very rude quip about your internal plumbing has him giggling like a little boy, and through his giggles he starts to answer, “Things are actually g—,”</p><p class="p1">“Marco, is it true— y/n.”</p><p class="p1">Ten has opened the door to the balcony Mark’s brought you to, and Johnny has just burst out from the restaurant. He nearly careens into the ornamental statue by the door in his haste and reaches out to catch it from falling with great reflex, because he can’t take his eyes off you. He is also untouched by time, save for the thin pink scar that is barely visible from the topmost unbuttoned button of his shirt. Only he’s changed now, he’s an engaged man, and you can practically feel the compounding happiness bursting out of him.</p><p class="p1">“Hi, Ten,” you whisper. “Hi, John.”</p><p class="p1">When Johnny starts to cry, you cry for the third time, unable to stop the reactive response. He stumbles over to wrap both you and Mark into a hug, his large frame sandwiching you in-between your two remaining best friends, enveloping you in such a cocoon of warmth you’re satisfied to never leave. You pull back for a fraction of a second to gesture Ten over, and he wedges himself into your side as well.</p><p class="p1">When Johnny lets go to look at you once more, to convince himself you’re there, you take the opportunity to sock him in the arm and tease, “The hot surgeon, I can’t believe you? I’m so proud of you?”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t be mad?” he jokes, content to freely recall that tension between you that almost seems like it’s never happened.</p><p class="p1">You give it to him right back with full, hilarious sarcasm, “Oh, I’m going to be mad. She got the best of ‘em, how could I not be?”</p><p class="p1">“Told you she wouldn’t be mad, dude,” Ten whispers. “You owe me ten dollars!”</p><p class="p1">It’s so funny that they’ve bet over this, that you pull out your wallet yourself and hand over a crisp bill to Ten, the gold of your ring flashing in the starlight. “What’s new with you?” you ask him as he cackles, relishing in his victory.</p><p class="p1">“I’m doing great,” Ten chirps. “My family is, too. My brother’s off to college in America in the fall, just got his acceptance letter last weekend. I’m heading home tonight to celebrate with him, though I usually spend more time with these fools than I do in Black Pearl Cove. How have you been doing?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m okay,” you answer, simple and to the point, “I know you’ve been talking to Mom. Nothing new. I’m okay. John, how are you?”</p><p class="p1">John shrugs, a contrast to the pure delight that seems to be running through him, and you get his honest admission, “Kinda shitty sometimes. My dad’s in prison. I can’t walk more than five steps without getting winded. Everyone expected me to become this military buff with General Zhang, but I just want to teach kids taekwondo.” It’s the same for all you survivors, you have an amalgamation of scars, emotional, physical, everything in between. However, John reminds you of the boons you’ve gathered as well, “But I’m alive, I live with Mark, I’m getting married. I can’t quite complain.”</p><p class="p1">Even if your life has ground to a standstill, you're glad at least everyone else is moving on.</p><p class="p1">“Good.” You see Wendy inside the restaurant, watching the reunion with great interest, and you give her a small wave of acknowledgment. You turn back to John and chide him, “You can’t keep your fiancée waiting much longer. Go.”You’re loath to have him leave and he appears the same, but you’ve crossed the biggest gap without consequence. “You can call me any time, okay?” you offer up, no longer intending to be closed off after this, “Go.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay. Okay,” he concedes. But he does bend over to kiss you on the cheek, feather-light and so tender, before he literally goes skipping back over to hug his fiancée. Ah, happiness. How nice it would be to have again. Ten notices that a light film of tension is spread out between you and Mark, your previous conversation left unfinished with their interruptions, and he makes a quiet exit.</p><p class="p1">“He’s, uh, he was being polite then. We’ve both been polite,” Mark warbles out of nowhere, and you turn back to look at him, confused as to where he’s taking this. He smiles, a full blown Mark smile, and he admits, “Things are really, really good.”</p><p class="p1">Before you can express any of your surprise at that, Mark launches into an excited, impassioned monologue about his life,</p><p class="p1">“Mom, Dad and I are so busy. I know you’ve seen Dad, so you know what he’s up to. But we’ve been doing all sorts of transitional business, too. I’m on the governmental task force, I do work helping folks settle down into new areas, getting stimulus checks sent out, setting up polling locations for the first election, all that stuff. Mom is on the outreach side - making pamphlets about bias, seminars on how to talk to kids about our history from the perspective of a survivor, organizing future campaigns to avoid falling into the same prejudice patterns. We do it all for free, it’s incredible.”</p><p class="p1">You’re beyond moved that he’s become so successful and self-assured. There were years that passed when Mark was left with no other occupation beyond tiptoeing around the expectation to join his father in the political world. But this also doesn’t jive with what Michael told you about what he’s been through since the day at the Pandora building.</p><p class="p1">You just have to ask, the full query getting clogged in your throat with the way you’re reluctant to bring it up, “What about the... the…”</p><p class="p1">“The anger management?” He spells it out for you, bringing himself into solemn sincerity for a second. He grabs your hands to hold out in front of him and plead, “Y/n, please don’t worry about that. I go to all of them as scheduled, alone and with my parents, I haven’t missed a single one. I’m not trying to sound flippant, because I do feel like it’s helping me to channel my frustration over the whole situation into my work. But you don’t have to worry about it at all.”</p><p class="p1">All you can think of is his arms covered in blood, the all consuming rage on his face, and how you’re scared that something will make him fall into that state of mind again.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t help it to be worried about you,” you mumble. Even though you were apart when you’d went through the same thing, he’d agonized over you in an identical manner.</p><p class="p1">“You know I’m not a killer,” Mark entreats you, the same thing you’ve had to echo to others before. His dark eyes solidify into obsidian steel when he swears, “But you have to know, that if anyone tries to hurt you, their death is a promise from me. I am willing to risk jail every time for that.”</p><p class="p1">It’s the same for you. You’ve already borne the brunt of physical suffering on his behalf, but like this is a new era for the nation, things have to change for you two. There’s no need now for any of this violent thought.</p><p class="p1">You cup his face, gentle, loving, like you’ve waited to do, and you assure him, “You won’t have to do that, okay? Okay, Mark? Nothing is going to happen to me again.” It’s an extremely foolish promise to make, but it’s one the both of you are absolutely required to believe in right now.</p><p class="p1">He presses his cheek into the palm of your hand in return, then nods. “Okay.”</p><p class="p1">“Now please, tell me more about your life.”</p><p class="p1">Mark’s previous trepidation is lost, and his excitement to tell you everything has your heart lightening as well, “Dad helped me buy a high-rise building to rent out cheap so we at least have some income. We live together even though John’s with Wendy, because it sucks living alone. Ten’s probably going to move in permanently when they get married in a few months, slot in on the election work with me.” Good, good, you’re so glad they’ve all had each other. “We’re thinking about pooling our funds and getting season tickets to the Bats this year.” He sighs deeply, and you brace yourself for some kind of <em>but</em>, followed by the first bad news of the day. What you get though, is, “And I know you want to ask, so I’ll tell you, I go on one date a week. Haven’t found anyone I clicked with yet, but it’s nice.”</p><p class="p1">You’re so taken aback by the admission that you physically step away from him. This perpetually single man admitting he’s reached out in an effort to start forming a connection has your heart roaring in such affection for him that this newly emotional you finds herself with wet cheeks. He is the perfect boy, you’ve thought this since you were kids, and the women of this country, of this universe, do not deserve him in any way. He’s too good for all of them, you included.</p><p class="p1">Mark peers at you with fondness, chuckling as he asks, “Are you crying again?,” finger darting out to swipe at your cheeks.</p><p class="p1">You dodge his attempt, slapping in his fingers so he has no leeway to make fun of you as you sob even harder, ungainly and slobbering, “I’m so glad you’re happy.”</p><p class="p1">He lets you cry, surely soaking it all in for blackmail material. You can hear the tone he’ll use to gossip to Johnny, <em>guess what, I saw human statue y/n sob like four times in a row! </em>But when the tears have subsided, he only carefully asks, “What about you, how are you really doing? I know you put up a good front with those two.”</p><p class="p1">What a question. One you don’t feel like you have an answer to.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know. I feel like I’m stuck between two me’s,” you vocalize your feelings for the first time to someone other than yourself. “I sit at home with my parents or out in our garden and I sew nonsense all day since I lack inspiration and eat microwave frozen foods because I hate cooking. A huge, huge part of me kind of wants to do that forever.”</p><p class="p1">The routine is perfect, getting up and walking, conversing with your parents all day, sewing flowers on that same patch of tulle because you don’t feel like doing anything else. It’s comfortable.</p><p class="p1">“And the other you?”</p><p class="p1">Why is it, though, that showing up to Sun &amp; Moon, that being with Mark, makes you feel more like yourself than ever?</p><p class="p1">“Misses this,” you admit, desperately, sadly, “misses being with you, John, <em>everyone.</em> My house, the kid, the parties, the hoopla, all of it. What our lives would’ve been like if we were just regular people living our lives together. We’re closer to thirty than we’ve ever been, M. What are we doing?” God, you’re getting old now. You used to make fun of Kyungsoo for pushing thirty, and you’re almost sort of nearly there yourselves.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know, either, dude,” Mark agrees, lost in his own thoughts. “Figuring shit out as we go, I guess.”</p><p class="p1">And the shit that you figure out right now is that you want to enjoy this night with your best friend. You look at him with a sly smile and prod, “I think you still owe me a dance from all that time ago.” The last time you danced together was at prom, you never got to share one at Changmin’s blossom ceremony, nor at your own wedding, or blossom ceremony that followed. It’s what you want to do.</p><p class="p1">“You want to go in there with all those people?” he asks in caution.</p><p class="p1">Time to find out what life you’re going to live. “Other me wants to.”</p><p class="p1">Mark takes your hand in his, and together, you walk off the balcony and right into a group of your old friends. Haechan, Lucas, Doyoung, and Joy’s eyes all bug right out of their heads when they see you there. You’re prepared for some hoopla, some dramatic gasps, a couple thousand different requests for a picture with the woman who’d saved the country. But it’s pleasant, the way they get themselves together, and smile very happily at you instead.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, y/n,” Joy, of all people, is the one to break the silence first, “great to see you here!”</p><p class="p1">You’re about to respond in kind when you see another quadruplet emerge from the dining room, to go off to where there’s been a booth set up for photos. It’s quite pleasing to see that Binnie and Minhyuk are now wearing matching wedding bands as they laugh together, nice to see that they’ve remained strong even through their own family’s splinter. With their father primed to be gone from their lives forever, it’s good to know the Kim girls will have support beyond just their mother.</p><p class="p1">But what ultimately draws your attention is that Mimi is not alone with them. Wearing a taupe headband you remember, she’s daintily holding onto the hand of a hulking, blonde man. His muscles explode out of his suit when he bends over to put a flower behind her ear. She giggles in such a smitten way you’ve never seen with her, that you can’t help your own tiny laugh.</p><p class="p1">The sound, even if it is quiet, must draw attention, because she looks past the man in search of the source. Before you know it, you’re meeting Mimi’s gaze. You don't want to let the awkwardness settle in, so you smile at her, genuine and appreciative, and you raise your fingers in a small wave. She doesn’t smile, not quite, but her hand does return the wave, a reflected gesture of acknowledgment and gratitude.</p><p class="p1">You’ll never forget the way she helped you in the end, and you’ll always hold immense grace in your heart for her for that. That’s the only thing you’ll choose to remember, chapter closed.</p><p class="p1">“Great to see you guys, too,” you respond as you look back to Joy, who’s already moved on from the shock of seeing you here to fuss with her boyfriend’s collar. Satisfied with how you are not the center of attention, you nudge Mark in the side to mutter, “Who’s that?”</p><p class="p1">“Her boyfriend, apparently,” Mark answers, “some kid from Wolf Way who moved here.”</p><p class="p1">Leave it to Mimi to be the most open minded of you all, the first burgeoning signs of change in this nation coming to fruition. This never would’ve happened before, someone moving here so freely across the border, let alone having a strong Neozone woman considering him as an option. Wonderful.</p><p class="p1">Your father reappears at that moment — your mother behind him with a plate full of cheese — multiple cups of wine balanced in his hands. He tipsily chirps, “Came to see if you guys wanted any wine?” But when he catches you and your best friend's twin contemplative faces, he sobers up and quickly amends, “Or… did you want to leave?”</p><p class="p1">“Why don’t you stay tonight?” Mark blurts out of nowhere, "We’re staying in the mansion, there’s more than enough room.”</p><p class="p1">“Stay here, in Neozone?”</p><p class="p1">“It’ll be like old times, we’ll have a sleepover, get drunk. Hangover breaky at Bomb’s Away, get to know Wendy some.”</p><p class="p1">You glance to your parents out of instinct. Your dad raises his eyebrows before he purposefully passes off two glasses of wine to each of you. “You don’t need our permission.”</p><p class="p1">Right, getting close to thirty.</p><p class="p1">The idea of staying in the mansion, in your fluffy four poster bed you know they haven’t moved, sounds too perfect. You’ll dance with Mark all night, drink as much wine as your recovering body will accept, and let the bliss consume you.</p><p class="p1">“Okay. I’ll stay.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>HERE WE GO! the beginning of the end. i'm really sad yet super excited for you guys to be reading these final four chapters, and i hope i still have some fun surprises up my sleeve for y'all :') have a wonderful week and thank u for reading!</p><p>ps dont flame me for the similar romantic pairings as my other stories (aka j/w). i am so lazy and uncreative in that regard i do NOT ship them irl lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. trifolium repens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You’re unraveling, you’re really unraveling, how did you expect to return home and not think of Jaehyun in absolutely every moment.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>playing santa claus and dropping this chap right before the holidays. to those of you who celebrate, merry christmas! everyone else, have a wonderful holiday season and stay healthy! xo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Wait, so you all actually thought she was a guy?” Wendy cackles, in legitimate disbelief at the story. She tries to steal the last bit of a muffin from John, and both you and Mark turn away in hilarious revulsion. After eating that many eggs Bomb's Away, you don’t know how she’s still hungry.</p><p class="p1">Once she’s done eating, Mark feels safe enough to turn back around and answer, “Yeah! All Dad said was that someone was going to come stay at the house and that they were my age. Of course I would think it was going to be a guy!”</p><p class="p1">You’d spent the last part of breakfast talking about the days when you’d all met each other for the first time. Wendy had been genuinely entertained that your first words ever to Johnny were <em>I’m sorry, you’re hot.</em> You’re now onto how the boys had had it in their minds you were also going to be a boy.</p><p class="p1">Johnny laughs loudly as he mocks Mark, “I literally can still picture, word for word, the text you sent. <em>if this new guy dad’s taking care of is as hot as you fuckers, im getting full body plastic surgery.”</em></p><p class="p1">“You said that?!” you gasp as Wendy again loses it laughing. You smack John on the arm first, then flick Mark’s forehead, “Mark, what the hell?” It bears repeating that even though his three friends had held ethereal levels of beauty when you’d met them, Mark was always the cutest, always the one whose handsomeness wouldn’t make you feel uncomfortable, his significant advantage.</p><p class="p1">He grabs your hand before you can tweak his nose, and pretends to punch you with it. He gripes, “I was seventeen, okay! Have you seen them? John’s had an eight pack since he was twelve, how is that fair!”</p><p class="p1">“You’re mad at me when Jae looks the way he looks?!” Johnny gasps, enraged that he’s been placed at fault. He even turns to his partner for an assist in this argument, “Back me up here!”</p><p class="p1">“He was kinda hot…” Wendy admits, ducking her head to avoid Mark’s glare.</p><p class="p1">John reaches over to fist bump her and rub her agreement in his best friend’s face, “See?! Also, Yuta has always literally looked like he was carved out of ice— ah.”</p><p class="p1">The sudden mention of your missing companion, one you were able to avoid all throughout breakfast, has the almost-spring air gone downright frosty in remembrance. Referring to Yuta in the present tense has your scars prickling, like his presence is being manifested in the reminder of the wounds you bear. John is even rubbing against his chest in discomfort. It is beyond fathomable that you are here without Yuta, that his bedroom in the mansion was empty last night, and you didn’t order a bacon and onion omelet at breakfast, his favorite.</p><p class="p1">“We’re kind of close….” Mark hums, looking down the street to where the cast iron gates that enclose the cemetery stand. “Should we go say hi?”</p><p class="p1">There’s no room for denial, no need for a verbal agreement, you know you have to do this together. You have Mark, Johnny has Wendy, you won’t have to prepare yourselves for the devastation alone. It’s a surreal stroll that you’ve taken too many times, down the sidewalk by the field of blue cornflowers, a completely striking experience to not walk straight through the gates to the plot that Jeno has laid at peace in, instead turning right to the area that’s been demarcated for military members.</p><p class="p1">A slug of grieving displeasure overtakes your heart when you see his bare gravestone, no flowers, the dirt still semi-fresh even though months have already passed. The only indication this is actually your friend’s final resting spot is that they’ve chosen the most top tier, elegant calligraphy to carve out the markings of his presence, of his life. It’s already a crippling pain to see <em>Yuta Nakamoto </em>spelled out and not see him there, but the worst is to see that he’s alone, next to no one else.</p><p class="p1">“What’s up, dude,” Mark softly greets, slapping the headstone like he’s giving his boy a high five.</p><p class="p1">“Hi, Yu.”</p><p class="p1">“First time I’ve had the stomach to stop by since his funeral. Jesus. This sucks. Looking as good as ever, man.” Johnny blows out a deep breath, and as he runs a stressed hand through his hair he laments, “Being a bodyguard was never supposed to be this literal. I still don’t get why he did that.”</p><p class="p1">Their jobs were assigned to them when they were sixteen, with the intention to never do more than keep their clients safe as safe as they could - from small scrapes and rough ups and maybe a run-in with someone with the wrong intentions, perhaps from a stalker or an oppressive crowd at most. But never to get ravaged in this way, one nearly dying from a bullet to the chest as he tried to protect his friends, the other bleeding out after actually trading his life for another’s.</p><p class="p1">“He was loyal, you know?” Mark sniffs, shaking with sorrow and gratitude that Yuta had saved his father, “I’m sure in the heat of the moment he didn’t think twice, which is what he would’ve done for any of us.”</p><p class="p1">“I had a dream about him,” you blurt. You’re sure they have too, right?</p><p class="p1">But it appears they don’t, Wendy, Mark, John all look at you in interested curiosity, with Mark asking, “You did?”</p><p class="p1">You still don’t know how you were lucky enough to see Yuta in the dream you’d had, if that was even real or it’s something you’ve made up in comfort. You vaguely recall his promise that you wouldn’t remember it, but each little detail has been whittled into your brain. If it’s helped you so much, you’re sure they’d like to hear. “Both of them came to see me. I asked if they wanted to take my place and they said they didn’t want to be apart from each other.”</p><p class="p1">That strikes them all with familiar sincerity. Wendy reaches out to hold Johnny’s hand, recognizing that she’d narrowly avoided the same fate. And Mark looks to you, surely sharing the exact same thought that you had, that you couldn’t even contemplate being apart from him that way.</p><p class="p1">“It’s so unfair,” Johnny deplores the situation, frustrated by the innocent loss of life. “All I knew about Seulgi was that she and I were in the same English seminar first year. We were supposed to do all this shit together, man."</p><p class="p1">That gives you thought that you might be able to do it all together, just not in the ways that you’ve wanted.</p><p class="p1">You ask, “How far is Oasis from here?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know, like four hours by car?”</p><p class="p1">You’re thinking of how sweetly Yuta hugged you before you parted, the feel of his jacket so lifelike under your fingertips. And the idea pours out of you like the love you’ll send his way for eternity,</p><p class="p1">“I’m not sure where we’ll be next October, but let’s meet here on Yu’s birthday. In the morning, when there’s a really great autumn sunrise, and we’ll plant some hyacinths here. They’ll wither in the snow, but they'll be just for us. Then, we take a road trip to Oasis, call the Nakamotos on the way over, blast music and have beers when we get there, and we’ll leave hyacinths on Seulgi’s grave as the sun sets.”</p><p class="p1">A perfect bookend to the days you’ll try your best to live for them. It’s dramatic and poignant and just a little bit out of a cinema reel, but you’ve never gotten the chance to mourn for just you. Beyond the funerals, beyond the processions, beyond the rigid structures of expectation. He was your best friend, this needs to be for him. You’ll go, and he’ll follow.</p><p class="p1">“Of course I’m in,” Mark’s voice cracks, just as John’s tiny sniff echoes, “Deal.”</p><p class="p1">“Wendy, you can come, too,” you offer, but your gaze isn’t drawn right to the other woman as you finish quietly, “we should invite everyone who ever loved Yuta. I think he’d like that.”</p><p class="p1">You’re magnetized by the sight of the blanket of white atop the not-quite-green-yet hill, stellaria in full bloom even though it hasn’t gotten properly warm. Your heart skips exactly two beats, one for each house that still sits at the very apex of this slope.</p><p class="p1">It’s a strange sign of the times that Mark does not immediately suggest you see Jeno, he latches onto your stare and softly asks, “You want to go up there?”</p><p class="p1">“Just for a little,” you murmur, not taking your eyes off of your house.</p><p class="p1">You’ve kept your old keys in your purse ever since your parents handed them back over to you, unsure if you were ever going to use them again, but unwilling to leave them somewhere they could be lost. It’s fortuitous that you were so attached to the past, because otherwise you wouldn’t be here on your front porch, unlocking the door to the place that holds a crushing weight of a lifetime’s memories.</p><p class="p1">“It’s still such a mess in here,” you chuckle mutedly as you turn on the lights, eyeing the pile of recycling that hadn’t been taken out, blankets and books and shoes strewn everywhere. “There’s my beer wrapper from Yu’s wedding, they just never cleaned.” You never cared about it being messy at any point, because you never had a reason to. But that was before Mrs. Jung had come to you, preoccupying your mind with what she would think to find her… daughter-in-law’s place a total mess.</p><p class="p1">Johnny’s conversation with Wendy, as he shows her around the place you spent so much time growing up in, is lost to you as you move to join Mark by the window. Even the view has not changed with the evolution of the land - the river is as glimmering as ever, the spring is sprouting the grass, the clouds still look particularly fluffy in the sky.</p><p class="p1">“This view never, ever, ever gets old,” Mark sighs, “you were lucky up here, bee. I told you that once.”</p><p class="p1">There’s been no sense of relieving comfort to return to this place yet, expecting to walk in and have it solve all your problems. You can’t tell if it’s because healing in Tactix has made the town feel like home again, or if a worse fate awaits you. “I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how I feel about it anymore. Being here feels like a scar. But I also don’t know if I could ever bear not living in this house again.”</p><p class="p1">“You own it, Dad made sure of that,” Mark reminds you of the kind deed. “You could let it sit here for fifty years and change your mind, it’s always going to be here.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a flash of panic, <em>I hope it doesn’t have to be fifty years before I return here. </em></p><p class="p1">You make an excuse to go running up the stairs, intending to give yourself some time alone, “I’m going to look around, see if Mom and Dad left anything behind so I can take it when they pick me up.”</p><p class="p1">You know your parents didn’t have much to bring along, you’re mostly going to grab clothes that fit you for once. But that mission completely falls away when you come upon the scenery in your room. The bed is unmade, slight indent still in both the mattress and the navy pillow resting upon it, like it hadn’t wanted to forget the person who’d last slept within its bounds. There’s a glass of water on your nightstand, and a discarded copy of the first <em>Lemony Snicket,</em> and when you look over to what’s on the dresser, you have to stumble forward to hold onto the post, a preventative measure so you don’t faint.</p><p class="p1">Mark’s quiet voice behind you nearly causes you to scream in surprise, “He slept up here like a lovesick idiot every day you were gone. I spent more time in his house than he did.” He turns a subtle smile over to the bloomed stellaria and honeysuckle sitting side by side on your old dresser and he sighs, “I think Jae brought those here to keep him company.”</p><p class="p1">You can’t do this, not right now. Not like this.</p><p class="p1">“Okay.”</p><p class="p1">Mark totally doesn’t notice your reaction. He goes over to fidget with the ceramic cup and crystal vase, straightening them out into a nice, neat line, then turns back and says, “Oh, I didn’t tell you yesterday, all this flower talk is making me think of the other initiative Mom and I are working on.”</p><p class="p1">“Hey, give me credit, I helped too!” John whines, towing Wendy up here to finish the tour of your house, get a glimpse inside the one room he’s the last to see. You’re very much not alone up here anymore, and you’re very much not okay. You have to be so careful about this.</p><p class="p1">“Yes, with some very insightful input from John,” Mark concedes with a hilarious sneer, before the soft gleam returns to his eyes, “I was inspired after hearing about Mom and Dad, and seeing that even though Seulgi didn’t have a flower, she and Yuta were still able to share in the tradition together. We’ve never understood how the flowers worked, I’d like to believe it’s simply magic, but that is proof for sure that they weren’t meant for only us. We weren’t the only people to ever occupy this land.”</p><p class="p1">Yes, the legend you will never forget - the first leader of Elyxion fought the first leader of Neozone for possession of the flowered land. But now there is no more Elyxion or Neozone, not really, the two regions only living on in the two namesakes of the cities.</p><p class="p1">“With my guidance, the citizen representatives of Neozone have proposed that, in order to share the goodwill of the city, seed packets will become available to the whole nation. It’s super dope, anyone who doesn’t have one can line up to get one if they want to before a marriage. Or at any point. But it’s going to be done in a chill way so no one feels the pressure to do it. It’s all about spreading our traditions to others, and letting people make the choice. Mom wouldn’t have needed to steal hers. Seulgi could’ve gotten one. I wouldn’t have had the pressure to have one in the first place, or I could even get another one if I wanted. It’s going to be voted on by the transitional council, but we’re pretty sure it’s going to pass.”</p><p class="p1">You’re thinking of all the people whose lives would have drastically differed had this happened earlier. Luna, Kyungha, Mr. Jung. Your sweet, sweet mother. You, by extension. When you thought of building this nation back up from the ashes of ruin, you’d not once considered this tradition to be a part of that work. But you should’ve known something was afoot when traditional Minister Lee had conducted a blossom ceremony that deviated from tradition. There’s so much more, the idea that Mark could have a second chance at this after he’d buried his seed packet with Jeno, that John has finally found his person, that Yuta is resting with his love. And that only makes you think of Jaehyun.</p><p class="p1">“That’s really great you two,” you compliment, short and sweet, “I’m proud of you.”</p><p class="p1">Mark finally notices that your answers have been less than enthusiastic, your demeanor doesn’t quite match the words you’re saying. He probes, “Are you good—,”</p><p class="p1">You cut him off before he asks a question you’re obliged to answer, busying yourself with giving orders, “Can you help me so this will go faster? M, look in the bathroom for anything I might need. John, you do the drawers. Wendy, since I like you, I won’t make you work.”</p><p class="p1">They oblige immediately, setting to their assigned tasks in the knowledge that they don’t want to argue with you right now. But you don’t even get beyond opening the door of your closet before a choked little sound escapes your lips.</p><p class="p1">That beckons Mark, “Bee?”</p><p class="p1">There it is, the artistic representation of this stunning place you’re in. Jaehyun’s needlepoint is propped up in the back of the closet, and you can just picture his fingers trembling around the frame after he’d torn open the parchment paper.</p><p class="p1">“That was his actual birthday present, you know?” you reveal, aimless and wistful and filled to the brim with nostalgia that isn’t quite so harrowing anymore. You used to associate this needlepoint with pain, and it is still painful to look at it now, but for an altogether different reason. “This was the first thing I made after my hand injury, and I thought I was being coy leaving my house off but keeping my flower on. He was so mad I did that.” You’re horrified to find yourself crying again, the glossy teardrops flying away as you turn around to look at Mark and ask, “We made that stupid bet you asked us about, remember?”</p><p class="p1">“About the no-hitter?”</p><p class="p1">When you close your eyes, another bouquet of teardrops is tossed, and you answer with a shaky sigh, “Yeah. Taeil didn’t actually throw one last year, so I lost. But that day the reporters ambushed me, Jae promised he’d sew me something in return.” Your fingers involuntarily clench across that spot on your palm, and you go on, “I gave him this picture of us for his twentieth birthday, from that photoshoot we did after Christmas. His way of fulfilling the bet was sewing it a frame with my mom, with two houses and two flowers.”</p><p class="p1">You’re unraveling, you’re really unraveling, how did you expect to return home and not think of Jaehyun in absolutely every moment.</p><p class="p1">“I still remember when you tried to teach us to sew. We were so bad,” Johnny says as he leans by the door, thinking of the good times.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun was the worst of them all, and it’d never gotten better for him in that regard. You let out a watery laugh and nod in agreement, “It was really, just, shitty ass sewing. It got us in trouble in Pandora because he kept it in his jacket.” <em>He kept it in the pocket of his jacket so I could always be close to his heart. </em>“I don’t know why he did that, M, it got us in so much trouble.” Your eyelids cascade closed with the weight of the memory, how you’d been pulled apart in the exact manner you’d always feared, that Jaehyun never denied it, all dyed with the immense pride he had in proclaiming that your flowers had indeed blossomed.</p><p class="p1">You feel a tender hand on your shoulder and Mark is right beside you, “Y/n, have you heard from him?”</p><p class="p1">You think to how you locked yourself in the mansion’s bathroom to make your requisite call this morning, and you shake your head, “No.”</p><p class="p1">“I haven’t either.”</p><p class="p1">“Neither have I. Neither has anyone,” Johnny confirms, clearly defeated, “maybe that’s good. That it’s not just us or you, it’s all of us.”</p><p class="p1">That brings no amelioration, no natural sense of peace, only one that you’re forcing yourself to feel. You would never want him to wound himself further if it truly felt like ruin to live in the place he did with his father. Splitting off the fuzzy, beautiful memories like he promised once is so much easier said than done.</p><p class="p1">“I wouldn’t blame him if he never came back,” you whisper.</p><p class="p1">Mark’s hand goes under your chin, to lift your gaze into his warm brown eyes and probe, “Come on, you’re just okay with never seeing, no, not even, <em>speaking</em> to him again? I don’t believe that at all.”</p><p class="p1">You take Mark’s fingers, holding his hand so, so tightly as you give up your biggest concession, “Dorado to him is what the Pandora Building is to me. That’s why it’s okay.”</p><p class="p1">He and Johnny both understand the gravity of your words. The Pandora Building, no longer occupied or in use, was once the place of your most intimate torment. You would’ve rather descended to the gates of hell than return there, and you only did so when you were at your most desperate. Dorado is that place in Jaehyun’s metaphor, only he has no reason to ever return here. You’d set aside each and every one of your selfish desires just for the slip of knowledge that he was okay wherever he was, that he’d have the shot to be happy again, even at the risk of your own personal sanity.</p><p class="p1">Your phone pings, a cessation of the emotional firestorm in your old room. You glance down at the notification, and see the three thousand different emojis your mother had become prone to using as of late. “That’s my mom,” you announce, before you press a kiss to Mark’s cheek and add, “I’m going to stop and say hi to the kid before I go.”</p><p class="p1">Maybe Jeno will know what to do. He did last time.</p><p class="p1">“Make sure the lilacs we planted are up to par when you see him,” Mark says, a reveal that he and his parents were able to fulfill that dream you held for them. “Or point out where you want them so we can re-do it together.”You smile, shaking your head no. You’re sure it’s perfect. Those flowers are for them, not for you.</p><p class="p1">“You’re going to the trial?” Johnny asks as you hug him once again in farewell, savoring the moment in his arms you spend intertwined.</p><p class="p1">You shrug, not in in the realm of contemplating Kyungsoo with everything that’s been going on the past few days, weeks, more. “I’m still thinking about it. But don’t worry. I’ll call when I can and you know where I live.” You peer past his shoulder to wink at Wendy and joke, “After all, you blessed me with a female friend, I have to take advantage of that.”</p><p class="p1">She’s not Seulgi, and never will be, but it would be very rude of you to not become best friends with your best friend’s wife. She seems pleased with the idea as well, rolling her eyes behind her fiancé’s back humorously and waving. “No guys allowed next time for sure, y/n. Good to see you.”</p><p class="p1">The fingers of your free hand reach out to brush against the crystal of Jaehyun’s vase, but you ultimately choose to leave the two flowers here where he’d left them. It makes no sense to bring them home to Tactix, where you’d be forced to look at them day in and day out and remind yourself that you didn’t have the matching person beside you. Like Mark said, if it takes fifty years, a hundred years, a thousand lifetimes, you’ll come back at some point and see them again. Hopefully with him.</p><p class="p1">Hand in hand like you’ve been all weekend, unable to be parted from each other, you and Mark step out onto the porch, letting the burgeoning spring breeze blow through your hair. He glances to your right, past the electric fence, no longer humming now that it has no reason to be illuminated. You spot your parents parked outside, they wave at you through the windshield.</p><p class="p1">That causes you to nearly miss Mark’s muted, “I think you should sell it.”</p><p class="p1">“The house? I thought you said—,”</p><p class="p1">“No, that patch of land down there. That can definitely squeeze a house in.”</p><p class="p1">You peer down to the elbow of grass at the bottom of the hill, a flat bit of emptiness that separates the road from the end of the slope, a space that’s stood unoccupied for so long. Mark grins at you, your favorite sight, and he conspiratorially whispers, “If we’re going to grow old together I need to live on this hill, too. And it’s not like I can just take that house from Jae, no matter where he is.” You remember Mark’s birthday wish for Jaehyun, <em>I want to celebrate every birthday of yours with you until we’re old and grey and live next to each other in our tiny houses. </em>But he knows this hill is yours, so he’s settled on the next closest thing.</p><p class="p1">“Hug me and I’ll consider asking a realtor,” you gripe, amused and heartwarmed all at once. He immediately does as he’s told, not wanting to hazard even the chance you’ll say no to his ludicrous plan. Once your cheek is laying upon the warm cotton of his tee, you finally get to say it again, “Love you.”</p><p class="p1">True to form, Mark completes it for you, “Love you forever.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">In the grand scheme of your life, standing outside your house, fiddling with your hairsprayed bun and white business suit is not the strangest thing you’ve ever done. It feels weird though, when your father’s in his gardening overalls —transplanting a field of clover into the field by the edge of your wall, their small white buds the closest thing he could get to a real field of stellaria — and your mother is still in her pajamas on the rocking chair, sewing away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">“Don’t get too close,” she warns you as a brush of dirt comes close to your pristine pant leg, “I don’t want you to get your outfit dirty.”</p><p class="p1">You want to point out in a snarky way that the row of hyacinths you’d just completed sewing before getting ready is almost touching the ground itself. But you just oblige and step back a few feet. “I don’t think they’d care if I showed up messy,” you mutter, making a show of putting another pin in your finally-long-enough-to-do-a-proper-bun hair. You peek over at what she’s working on, and the row of zinnias is crooked into a zigzag, “Straighten out your row here, Mom!”</p><p class="p1">She only ties off a knot to start another white flower you can’t make the shape out of, in line with the off-kilter pattern. She brushes you off, “It doesn’t need to be straight.”</p><p class="p1">“Oooookay. Whatever you say, you’re the master here!”</p><p class="p1">“Tell me again what the plan is?”</p><p class="p1">You peer down to the stack of papers on your leather document holder and recite the summary blurb at the top of the printed page, “General Zhang’s men, who have been put in charge of security, are personally escorting me to the court house. I’ll testify today and then be taken right to the visitor’s residence. I won’t be able to see or speak to Mark or any other witnesses, because it could be viewed as tampering. They’ll keep me until the next day, when the judge decides if he needs more testimony, then I’ll either return to court or they’ll bring me straight back.”</p><p class="p1">It’s all a bit rigid and scheduled, but you are accustomed to this sort of overprotectiveness from everyone now. You get to relish in the lack of responsibility for the greater good. You didn’t even feel like <em>maximum security</em> was particularly necessary, as Mark said over the phone that he and John will be free to sit in the court as witnesses, without guards. But Michael surely has gotten the red carpet rolled out for you because of your status.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Listen, y/n, if you don’t think you can do this, you don’t have to,” your father sits back from his work to remind you in his usual caring manner, “Michael told me he has a ton of other witnesses in court today.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">Your mother looks up from her sewing to chime in an agreement, “Exactly. Kyungsoo already has a bunch of folks ready to stand up for him, you don’t have to put yourself through this.”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“All I have to do is read a statement,” you remind them. You don’t feel comfortable undergoing any sort of intense scrutiny or cross examination. But if you can help save an innocent man by reciting the words Kyungsoo’s lawyers and Michael have prepared for you, then you’ll do it. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Sweet pea, you have the prettiest heart.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Your heart is so pretty it decided to show itself off. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">At the silvery recollection of the most stunning sentiment you’ve ever been on the receiving end of, your hand presses into the expanse of your stomach, right over the healed wound. You’re going to have to learn to breathe like this, under the spell of all feeling being ripped from you, half here, half in the bed when Jaehyun had whispered that to you.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Your dad picks up on your reaction and goes to immediate concern, “Did I say something wrong?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“No.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Mr. y/l/n, sir. Ma’am.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">At the interruption, you glance behind you to see that it’s General Zhang himself who’s come to escort you to Dragon’s City. His driver is waiting in the shuttered black car, punctuated with two UN flags on the antennae, the previous black and green flag of Dorado been laid to rest with the fall of the previous regime.Well, no time like now to get this all over with. You fix your bun one last time and you wave to your parents, not wanting to hug them or have any sort of soppy goodbye that will have your emotional state teetering on a precarious edge when you arrive there.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Good luck, sweet pea!” your mother calls as General Zhang bows to you, then opens the door on your behalf, “you’ll do great!”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">This isn’t exactly sending you off to take the SATs or play in a baseball game. You’re about to go to <em>court</em>, to get wrapped up in legal proceedings like you never have before. You let yourself get lost in the tree-covered landscape that rolls by in a scenic tableau as the driver and the young military leader talk back and forth, drawing out some minuscule, friendly conversation from you when you’re feeling up to it.  </span>
  <span class="s1">You don’t even bother trying to keep up with their questions once the city view of the new capital starts to flash in the distance through your window. This is nothing like Pandora. Yes, it’s a city, there are tall skyscrapers and a whole swath of buildings that have been polished and re-animated into use when the long-abandoned town was reclaimed for this purpose. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">But they somehow haven’t ruined the flora with a sterile arrangement of metropolitan power, the hallmark of the area you’d lived in in the old capital. They’ve left the trees and greenery fully intact, the original founders choosing to build around the land instead of razing it to their benefit. What you’re encountering is a respectful merging of natural power and man-made accomplishment, a harmonious melding of the country to its people. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The driver takes a turn off the main road into a private entryway that leads to the bowels of the imposing marble building they’ve designated to be the courthouse. That means you are let out of the car into a quiet parking garage instead of having to ascend the front steps where hundreds of bustling reporters had assembled to catch a glimpse of what might be going on inside. There’s a few guards standing alongside the elevator with a man in a suit, and General Zhang gestures for you to wait with them as he moves ahead to prepare for your entrance. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You stare down at the tips of your white heels after you’ve come to stand beside the additional witness, not nervous yet but channeling your stamina in case the next few moments reach a breaking point you can’t overcome. But all decorum and rules go out the window with the very amused statement that emanates from the person beside you, “Wanna know how I got all those guards away from your room?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Mr. Byun!”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">At the guard’s harsh scolding, your eyes dart over to indeed see Baekhyun grinning right at you, silver-blonde hair a chic halo around his head, eyes crinkled in mirth as they await your response. That disappears into all the might of his celebrity authority as he brushes off the soldier’s warning, “I flew here all the way from LA, I will have a conversation with my friend first. Report me for tampering if you dare.” Then, his childish grin reappears as he whispers, “It was this.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He sticks out his hand through the cuff of his Armani suit, and begins shaking it back and forth so that only his ring finger is moving, like a fish that’s flopped out of the sea for air. You’re hypnotized by the bizarre gesture, watching his hand fluctuate back and forth, and then you realize how effective this must've been at keeping the guards away from your room before your last goodbye.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“That’s the dumbest thing ever,” you joke, shooting him a very congenial roll of your eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Baekhyun groans at you downplaying his efforts, then pridefully boasts, “It worked, didn’t it? All of our plans worked.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“You always had it planned?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You’d figured it out yourself that Kyungsoo and Baekhyun had purposefully been in cahoots this whole time, but you don’t feel like it’s totally selfish to want the answer given to you straight and true. So much of this new era of your life had been about getting the honest information first and foremost, and you do want it here. Especially because you might not get a chance to hear it directly from the other half of the duo.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Baehyun is a permanent kind of smiler, but his beam goes a shade softer, brash tone a tad more respectful, “Yeah. <em>Make sure the blueberries get picked while I’m gone, </em>remember? When Luna died, we swore we would protect whoever came next. Exordium already knew that reporter was married to the Chief, and I hinged my bet on them wanting my voice as a way to get into the capital.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">There it is, what you’d imagined all along. And it’s a lingering, pointed brand of terrible fate that they had to even make that kind of promise in the first place.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry, by the way,” Baekhyun’s still talking, “I tried to warn him about… the other thing, but I’m not sure he totally believed me.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">No, no, you don’t want this conversation to go here, this is territory you can’t cross into if you want to appear like the strongest, best version of you on the stand. Your father’s errant, not on purpose mention of the missing piece of this story had already lambasted you with an awful shove into turmoil. </span>
  <span class="s1">You can barely keep it together enough to croak, “It’s okay. That was all my fault.” Which nextprompts the question you’ve been dying <em>(perhaps a bit too literally)</em> to know the answer to, “How did you figure it out?” Baekhyun had to have known what Jaehyun meant to you the day of the almost blossom ceremony, but you swore that you had done your best to not give anything away.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“The straightforward way? Or the Baekhyun Byun is a genius way?” he asks, a churlish expression pasted high on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Both.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I heard you on the stairwell in the guest house the day before. He called you Mrs. Jung.” Maybe you really had given it all away. You hushed him a thousand times, thought his pretty mouth was far too loud in its devotion to you. He was too corny and foolish, and you loved that about him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“And the other?” you ask, as nostalgic and softened by time as you’ve been since waking up. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Baekhyun elbows you in the ribs - gentle, playful - and he drawls out, “You’re suuuuuper obvious, Jae’s girl.” The way he’s so carefully edited your old nickname has set your tender heart alight, and you nearly allow it to char right up with the lost, consuming adoration when he finishes, “Everyone knew you loved a boy from your hometown, and he showed up to my fan sign wearing a shirt you made. It did not take a genius to connect those dots, so maybe calling myself a genius was stretching it.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You’re just as corny and foolish, perhaps even worse. That shirt that’d given it all away, geometric black detailing on the hem of a grey tee, was something you had sewn for <em>Earth Day</em> because you could not say no to the man. If you ever got him back, you would sew him a shirt every day if he wanted, every hour if you could. If that would make him happy. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t think I can ever thank you enough, Baek,” you whisper to your hands, because you’re ashamed that he’d ever been in harm’s way on your behalf. “For all of that.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Thank me by getting my best friend acquitted,” he says, in a careless tone that belies how worried he is about what’s going to transpire. But Baekhyun - the wondrous celebrity pop heartthrob who always knows what to say and what to do, who you will be friends with for a beautiful lifetime - brushes that off to reach over and squeeze your hand, then add, “And by inviting me over for a drink sometime so I can finally meet your husband for real.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">General Zhang reappears at the opportune moment, gesturing you forward to head upstairs. Your fingers close around Baekhyun’s for one second more, and then you go. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The hallways are relatively deserted inside the courthouse, nobody pays much heed to the random woman by General Zhang’s side, he takes care to conceal you as much as possible. You feel grateful that he’s looking out for you in this manner, but you want to tell him that it’s okay to relax a little. For instance, when he reaches for the door to let you inside the courtroom, another hand tries to as well. It’s a man’s hand, with a thin band of gold around the left ring finger, the only defining feature you can see. But General Zhang is absolutely not having it. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He bodyslams the man away from the door with a brusque, “Sir, excuse me,” holding you firmly in place and boxing out the other person with his back so you don’t have a chance to see or be harmed by the intruder. </span>
  <span class="s1"><em>We’re not scheduled until the next round, sir,</em> the accompanying soldier whispers as he shoots his superior a look of apology and shuffles the other witness away before either of you can see who it is. </span>
  <span class="s1">Satisfied with the fact you’re unharmed, General Zhang shoots you an encouraging smile and asks, “You ready?”</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Even if you aren’t, it’s too late to say. </span>
  <span class="s2">You nod, and then he opens the door. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">There’s a blinding barrage of camera flashes, and General Zhang holds a firm arm around your bicep to begin escorting you to the witness stand. The crush of reporters is extremely triggering. Though you’d been warned that this trial was highly publicized, and you felt like you were making great strides in your progress through therapy, you twitch each time a shutter clicks. You want to flee, to run out of the room straight back to Tactix, but once you’re deposited in the very front, all eyes on you, and you don’t want to embarrass yourself. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The judge addresses the court, “y/f/n y/l/n, ex-fiancée of Kyungsoo Do.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Ms. Y/l/n, am I to understand you’ve prepared a statement on behalf of my client?” The lawyers are addressing you now, but you don’t hear them. </span>
  <span class="s1">The ICC council members sit to your left, notepads in hand as they anticipate your statement, Hyungsik at the table as Dorado’s representative. But now, the camera flashes have died down to the point where you can make out the people posed at the additional witness’s table. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Mark and John are wildly waving to get your attention, not at all fazed by the court-appointed officer trying to corral them into propriety. You don't want them struck from the record for an attempt at tampering, but you appreciate their efforts all the same. They know exactly what depths of anxiety you’ve already plunged into, and they’re doing their very best to keep you calm. There’s a few former workers you remember from the residence, one old coworker of Kyungsoo’s you can’t recall the name of, and of course, Luna’s parents sitting tall in the very back row, smiling in encouragement at you. Mark told you Ten was scheduled in the second round of questioning, Suho and Baekhyun, too, and it’s obvious from this turnout that Kyungsoo has a whole team of supporters roaring for him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Ms. Y/l/n?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">You snap your attention to the lawyer, and in the process finally see Kyungsoo.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He’s scarily thin, designer suit hanging off his body, face gaunt with the lack of baby fat that had always rounded out his squishy cheeks, hair shorn close to his head. But the most glaring addition to his changed appearance are the amalgamation of long, thin white scars across his hands - from his conflict with Jaehyun’s father, when he'd been stabbed relentlessly with that same knife. He stares blankly at the desk before him, you’re not even sure if he knows you’re there. He’d lost both of his parents, his real cousin in Jeno, his foster cousins in Sehun and Seulgi, his wife, and almost you, in a harrowingly short amount of time. This is the portrait of a broken man, one that’s barely hanging on. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You glance down at the bland statement that’s printed on the card, held in the hands that have an old set of scars to match the defendant's new ones, </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I am y/f/n y/l/n, Kyungsoo Do’s ex-fiancée. Under sworn oath I testify that Mr. Do did not, to my knowledge, participate as an accessory to any of Kyungho Kim’s posthumously charged crimes. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You’re about to parrot it out, the opening sentence hangs on your tongue, but you look up at Kyungsoo one last time. Though his aura is fragile and run-down, vibe projecting off him incredibly sad, he musters up the effort to finally glance up, too. When he actually registers that it’s you who’s come to speak for him, his lips quirk, and his eyelid twitches in a wink. It’s then that you see the yellow wisp of a pocket square.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The memory detonates inside your brain. This is Kyungsoo, the boy whose affection you hadn’t deserved. The boy who had been your companion since the moment you were thrown together, who’d gotten into fights and arguments just to defend your honor, who’d flirted with you from the moment he felt it was right. The boy who’d called himself your not-boyfriend just to appease you, the boy who’d loved every one of his family and friends so fiercely and undeservedly. The boy who’d saved your life, and the life of the other boy you love. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You put the cards down on the stand, and you hear the crowd murmur in surprise. It’s a life for a life. For all he’s saved you, you will now save him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“My name is y/n. You may know me as the defendant’s ex-fiancée, or even as something so ludicrous as the Icon of Dorado. But I am just a girl from Tactix. Even during my time in Michael Lee’s household, in the old capital, I was just a girl from Tactix. Mr. Do is the defendant, yes, he is the former Premier’s son, yes. But he is just a boy from Oasis. I have spent my entire life molding myself into the kind of person my parents would be proud of, but not everyone is as lucky as I have been. We shouldn’t judge a person by the sins of their parents, in fact, Kyungsoo should be applauded for the person he’s become in spite of his lineage. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“He is unfailingly kind, he is incorruptibly good. When I went through what happened that November, he was the only person that was completely on my side, who always put me first without an external obligation. I wish I could’ve fully appreciated the extent of his generosity earlier, but at least I know this now. He saved my life on many occasions, both during that week in captivity and in the horrors we’ve seen since. He kept the country together when no one else dared to take on that weight for themselves. None of us would be here in this courtroom without him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I can say with full confidence that Mr. Do did not participate as an accessory to any of Kyungho Kim’s posthumously charged crimes. I have love in my heart for so many, and Kyungsoo is a person that I love. Though we are involved no longer, I come to you as his ally, as his friend, as a blueberry girl from Tactix and Neozone just looking out for a boy from Oasis and Neozone. To ask you take my story into consideration in saying that without a doubt, Kyungsoo Do is a good person.” </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">You’ve closed your eyes while speaking so passionately, and your vision returns with complete commotion. There’s a barrage of flashes as reporters race to get the perfect glimpse of you dressed in white, an angel come to save the defendant. </span>
  <span class="s2">The observers and council members, men and women alike are sniffling into their handkerchiefs, the lawyers on both sides are confounded with awe, even the judge is visibly affected by your passionate defense of your ex-fiancé. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">None of that matters except for looking back at Kyungsoo, who’s not emotional, who doesn’t have an ounce of explosive reaction primed. He only nods his head at you, a blink of his long, handsome eyelashes,</span>
  <span class="s2"> and he mouths to you in gratitude<em>, Thank you.</em></span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The judge bangs his gavel against the wood, sending the room into silence so he can boom his order, “Alright, we will recess the hearing for ten minutes. Guard, please let the next set of witnesses in so we can reset.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Kyungsoo disappears from your vision, his lawyers reconvening so they can amend their plan after the Hail Mary you’d just tossed them. General Zhang approaches to offer a hand you can take, to steady yourself off as you take shaky, yet accomplished steps off the podium. He grins at you like he’s your proud older brother, and you find yourself thinking that maybe you’ll get Mark to make friends with him on your behalf. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Great job, ma’am," he sings your praises as you take his arm in support. "Remember, you’re not allowed to come into contact with any of the witnesses, but I can bend the rules with a message. Anything you’d like to say?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">No better time to put your plan into motion. Together, you walk down the marked off transitional area that keeps the witness stand from the rest of the court. The doors are open now as the guards usher Mark and the others from their seats, and bring the other crop of witnesses in to wait for their placements. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You stand on your toes to whisper in General Zhang’s ear, “Tell Mr. Lee his hair looks atrocious. And that I’ll see him s—,”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Ma’am?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You’ll have to apologize to the General for the way your shocked choke explodes into his ear when the soldier by the door gestures for the new group to enter. In fluid slow motion, like you’ve been plunged back to that expanse of white nothingness that made up your dreamland, you blink. And then you realize that you had recognized that man’s hand from earlier, the one that General Zhang had body slammed in your defense. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">That slip of gold wasn’t a ring, it was a strand of gold thread, tied around a finger. <em>Jaehyun’s </em>finger. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You have to be shitting yourself in a delusion. He’s not really here in Dragon’s City, here in the courtroom past the separative barrier with the next set of Kyungsoo’s witnesses. He’s not drawing the stares of those in the building, all craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the handsome newcomer — tall and elegant as expected, hair a dark, natural black that you haven’t seen on his head save for the pictures of him as a toddler. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Which is a direct contradiction of his sickly pallor, gone a ghost white as his pink lips tremble, “Y/n.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"><em>Is that Jae? </em>Mark’s obvious, obnoxious voice tumbles into your ear even from across the room as you and the newcomer stare at each other. The syllables of your name, audible in that silvery tone from your standing spot, dissipate into the gold strands sewn into his navy shirt. Sewn into the perfectly unwrinkled, proudly standing branches of the oak tree spread across his torso. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Jae.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Jaehyun snaps out of his stupor when you say his name, immediately diving for the latch on the gate, fingers fumbling to open it as he gasps, “Y/n, oh my god, oh my god.” Those surrounding him yelp as they’re shoved aside in his haste, and when you feel the sharp pinch of pain against your arm, you look down to see yourself maybe fifteen feet from where you were standing before, General Zhang holding you back from advancement. </span>
</p><p class="p4">"You cannot risk your testimony getting thrown out, Ms. y/l/n!" he insists, digging in his heels to hold onto you. "You cannot speak to the other witnesses, it's the rule!"</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The general must've been clued in on all of the gritty details of who Jaehyun is to you, but he doesn't seem inclined to let any of it slide. He’s purely seeing it as two witnesses trying to break the court-ordered rules. That’s evident in the way he nods at his compatriot, who firmly steps in between Jaehyun and the barrier, blocking him off from giving up on the lock and leaping over it instead. You get it, you don't want to unravel the hard work you'd just put in to absolve Kyungsoo of his invisible sins, but this is different. It's always different with it comes to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">You try to tug yourself out of his grasp, but the general is unrelenting, “Ma’am, we have to go, we have a protocol to stick to.”</p><p class="p1">“No, I have to see him,” you cry, not caring if you’re making a scene when he picks you up like you’re a child and begins to herd you towards a different entrance, “that’s— that’s Jaehyun, it’s him!”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is definitely causing commotion, shoving aside the soldier to shout for you, <em>Y/n!</em>, only to get shoved back into place and stared down with a fierce warning he doesn’t give a fuck about. Your hands are grappling at your protector’s wrist, trying to entice him into letting you go, heels trying to stomp into his feet, anything to give you that second of escape you need.</p><p class="p1">You’re struggling on opposite ends of the courtroom, bodies instinctively wanting to go to each other. But you both are only months removed from mortal injuries, in no place to win any kind of fight. So, like it’s that day again. They have no problem taking you from him.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Ma—,” General Zhang’s voice echoes and cuts out when he steps inside the room to see you still by the window where he left you last night. “Ma’am. You have a visitor. Would you like to take a minute before we head out?”</p><p class="p1">You’re displeased to see he’s here. You don’t bother to turn from where you’d been staring at the trees for the past however many hours, and you grit out, “I thought you said no visitors.”</p><p class="p1">“Mr. Lee pulled quite a few strings for this one, had it set up before you even agreed to come.”</p><p class="p1">That gets you to stand up in less than a heartbeat’s worth of time, the syllable flying out before you’ve even done the full one hundred eighty degree turn, “Jae—,” only for it to sour into displeasure immediately. You sigh, and exert a lot of effort to not roll your eyes, “Hi, come in. You may leave, General.” General Zhang at least does at he’s told, and looks a little bit guilty doing so, though it is no reward for you. </p><p class="p1">That leaves you alone with Kyungsoo for the first time in a long time. He already looks so much healthier than yesterday, a bit of color is already back in his cheeks.</p><p class="p1">He takes off his jacket, then sinks on the bed and jokes, “Performance of a lifetime yesterday, huh?”</p><p class="p1">“It wasn’t a performance,” you grumble.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry. That was supposed to be funny,” he apologizes, not used to this awkward air between the two of you, formal and unamused. “I said it already, but thank you. I only got the displacement period. Quote, he acted as reasonably as he could with the knowledge he held, and did not aid or otherwise abet the crimes that have been posthumously charged.”</p><p class="p1">His presence here was enough of an indication they’d let him go, but it’s relieving to hear the words straight from his mouth. You sit back down on the chair to have this talk as equals, and you acknowledge your agreement, “As you should have. Throwing you in jail or otherwise punishing you would’ve been needlessly cruel.”</p><p class="p1">“Kinda feels like I deserve it though,” Kyungsoo exhales, pointing a warning finger to you before you can interrupt, “that wasn’t sarcastic.”</p><p class="p1">You get it, the self loathing and the doubt and the survivor’s guilt. But he doesn’t strike you as the kind of man who wants coddling right now, so you go back to straight honesty, “You just had two dozen people say otherwise, but I know that won’t change your mind. Not to be blunt, but see a therapist wherever you go.”</p><p class="p1">“Only if you see one.”</p><p class="p1">“I already do.”</p><p class="p1">“Touché,” he quips at your quick retort, though he does look pleased you’ve finally gone down that path like he’d prodded you to do before. His eyes totally soften when he looks right at you and reveals, “Jaehyun said a lot of nice things about me yesterday. Most of them in relation to you, as is expected of him, but still. I was totally fucking shocked he came.”</p><p class="p1">It’s not out of character for Jaehyun to do something as selfless as this, but you were totally fucking shocked all the same. You thought about his reappearance all night.</p><p class="p1">“Me too.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo’s eyebrow raises with interest. “You were? I thought you would’ve been re-married with five kids by now.” It hurts, literally hurts to hear that. One, because he’s said it with such ease, like he’s finally accepted that your heart lies elsewhere. And two, because you also secretly thought you’d be at that point.</p><p class="p1">“That was the first time I’d seen him,” you admit, fiddling with the hem of your dress in an effort to fixate on something other than crying, “let alone talked to him.”</p><p class="p1">“Left the city?” Kyungsoo asks, in a knowing tone. You’ve all had the same idea.</p><p class="p1">You nod. “Yup. No idea where he’s been.”</p><p class="p1">“Getting stabbed by his father, coming to the new capital for the first time. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought he was in love with <em>me,</em>” Kyungsoo says facetiously, obvious in his attempt to get you to laugh.</p><p class="p1">You’re compelled to get this conversation over with. You finally feel ready to broach this topic fully, and you dive right in before you even allow yourself to enjoy the joke, “I owe you maybe the longest apology in the history of apologies. But in the essence of us not getting our hearts broken again, that’s why it all happened. I’ve loved him since I was a kid.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo smiles in spite of himself and gives you a pointed little reminder, “Saw the picture, remember?”</p><p class="p1">You wince, thinking of just how pained he looked when he’d taken it all in - your baby faces obviously in infatuation even back then, the sight of the two crudely stitched flowers. “Right. I’ve lied to you about so much, you don’t have to forgive me for any of it. But that time I said I wasn’t in a position to make it happen, I legitimately meant it. I had no idea he felt the same way. And it was all because of his father, as I’m sure you’ve heard.” You’d only ever discussed the topic of Jaehyun in a clandestine way with Kyungsoo, because you were convinced he was a possibility that would never come to fruition. You’d just gotten wildly lucky that the opposite was what actually happened.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo muses, “He said I was like one of his brothers on the stand yesterday. We have more in common than I thought. That’s why I did what I did.”</p><p class="p1">That sounds so much like the Jaehyun you know, putting aside his personal gripes to be the fiercest kind of supporter. You can practically pluck out the phrase he probably used, <em>This man is like one of my brothers, we both know the struggle of being used by our parents for their terrible, selfish ambitions. </em></p><p class="p1">You wonder if the two men had an opportunity to quash their animosity yesterday on a more personal level. Once you’d all been blessed with clarity on the twisted braid that had held you together, the both of them had no qualms with rushing to protect each other. Kyungsoo had stopped his father from firing at Jaehyun with his words, Jaehyun had stopped his father from stabbing Kyungsoo with his own body, and Kyungsoo had tried his very hardest to allow Jaehyun the dignity of not watching his father die. They’ve always been alike, more than you ever could’ve dreamed.</p><p class="p1">“So beyond Michael,” you say softly, “it was all about keeping him safe from something I couldn’t understand at the time. I was so desperate, the only thing I could think to do was to…”</p><p class="p1">“Use me,” Kyungsoo answers for you, but does not sound mad or even a bit shocked.</p><p class="p1">You smile, full of regret for that, and continue, “Because what went on with his father was so crazy, literally the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me in my personal life, I was naive enough to think that it wouldn’t happen again. But it happened again. And for that most of all, I am so sorry.” You should’ve seen the similar behavior start to crop up in Kyungsoo, the way he turned from being warm to harsh, parroting out mantras you know he wouldn’t have believed in. What were the odds that <em>both </em>fathers of the men you cared for would utilize you against them in such a horrible way?</p><p class="p1">“I think I may have known the second I heard he was the only person who saw you after what happened, and he showed up all mad the next day when he found us alone.” His recollection of a long-forgotten moment tells you maybe you’ve all been a bit too purposefully jejune. “But a part of me couldn’t believe it until I had real proof.”</p><p class="p1">You have a useable fallback, you can blame his anguish at discovering the truth purely on his own naivety. But you also want Kyungsoo to understand that Jaehyun was a forever kind of thing. The boy from home will forever be Jaehyun Jung, you could meet boy after boy after boy from Neozone, could kiss them and flirt with them and they could never, ever compare.</p><p class="p1">You stare into his eyes, approaching him with ultimate candor and care, wanting him to not agonize over the back and forth anymore. You confess, “You don’t need to know any of the details of anything unless you really want to. But Jeno helped him pick out a ring for me, right before. Jaehyun was always who I was talking about. His flower on that picture frame was a honeysuckle. Mine was the stellaria.”</p><p class="p1">His eyes close with the serendipity of the realization, that your flower was the one that always bloomed so loyally in your yard.</p><p class="p1">“You were her all over again.”</p><p class="p1">His breathless confirmation knocks the wind right out of you in return, “Kyungsoo—,”</p><p class="p1">He’s already tearing up, you’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him vividly emotional like this. Not in all the times you’ve talked about Luna, not in his breakdown in the bathtub. You hadn’t even believed your mom, not really, when she told you about how he’d sobbed after seeing his deceased mother.</p><p class="p1">“She is my true love, I can finally say I never thought otherwise,” he admits with a lovelorn sigh, “but you and I used to laugh, compare each other to our <em>what ifs</em>, and it was never fully a joke for me. You were her for me.” You used to never be able to speak about Jaehyun more than in a few sentences. Kyungsoo used to tell you all these fantastical, jealousy-inducing stories in return, spinning a tale of a woman who deserved all the brilliant love in the world and the man who would’ve given it to her forever.</p><p class="p1">“No, I wasn’t,” you shoot down the comparison yet again, “she was amazing.”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t deny your denial explicitly, but his subtle, wistful tale does it for you, “It was like I was living with a real ghost - just as smart, just as funny, just as selfless. Got along with my best friend. Liked to wear gold, which was close enough to yellow. It felt like I went through all of that just to be granted a re-do.” You can’t even begin to wrap your mind around what it must’ve been like for him, to suffer through that month of intense mourning, only to be hit with the blunt trauma of a kidnapping and wake up to you. “It didn’t feel the same, because there were so many other little, beautiful parts of you that I knew. Your ardent Bats support, the caustic wit, how you always gave up just a bit too much of yourself for others. But calling you my not-girlfriend would’ve been enough for me. It <em>was</em> enough for me.”</p><p class="p1">He means what he says, he was content with only having a love that wasn’t true. He’d been convinced that that kind of love was worth something, and he’d argued the case quite successfully to you.</p><p class="p1">You give him your own admission, that he must’ve picked up on but you feel obliged to repeat, “I was ready to marry you. I was more than ready to be married to you forever.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo smiles genuinely, appreciatively, like that’s what he’s known all along.</p><p class="p1">“Baekhyun and I always had an agreement that if somehow, someone came along after Lu, we’d do our absolute best to keep them safe. But neither of us knew it would’ve ended up this way. Everything I said, the performance I played for Father, it was all done to keep you safe. But it was mostly about convincing myself that I could’ve done this for her. Like this was also a re-do of saving her. ”</p><p class="p1">There was nothing he could’ve done to stop a bombing that he didn’t know was coming. But he was given his own avenue to prevent the same fate from happening to you. You will never fault him for stretching himself out to the limit. <span class="s3">His deep voice is cracking now, borne out of regret and nothing else</span><span class="s2">, “So, when I found out that the Vice Premier was in on Father's plan, I was scared for you, because I thought somehow his son was the same. I didn’t know.” His head goes in his hands, words suppressed by the scarred barriers, “And by the end, I really couldn’t separate you from Luna, I was that in my head about keeping you safe. I don’t think I understood there could be someone else… because there never was for her. </span><span class="s3">I’m not sure if I ever actually hated him.”</span></p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">Oh, no. You already knew you put Kyungsoo through the worst kind of pain, hearing it out in the open like this is getting carved apart all over again. He might have had his personal jealous times, moments of nauseating annoyance because of the other man’s presence, or eras he wanted you all to himself. But by that story’s awful conclusion, he had been stuck with the repeated loop of watching the ghost of his true love shun him for another. Another that he assumed was in possession of a familiar, evil bloodline.</span>
</p><p class="p1">You appreciate his words about your husband, but at the root of it, this conversation is only about the two of you. You get up from the chair you’re in and go to sit on the bed across from him, fingers ghosting over his knee as you murmur, “Luna would’ve been so proud of you. You stopped a war, Soo.”</p><p class="p1">“A war my own father started. And because my mother…” He’s truly weeping now, letting all the grief just soak out of him, not able to reconcile the mother he knew with the reports of her end, “…gave him the opportunity to do so. God, why are so many of the villains in this parents? There should be some kind of rule against being that cruel to your children.” You have to agree with him on this one. How many of your friends and peers have been left with a severed family in the aftermath of this? A broken family is not necessarily a bad one, but it feels needlessly cruel that they were left behind as a result of greed, ambition, and prejudice.</p><p class="p1">You leap to reassure him, to cross the bound of awkwardness and sit next to him, place your scarred hand on his symmetrical one and say, “It’s up to you to change that. And you will. I know you will.” You remember Michael’s pure admission, that even after all of this, he still views Kyungsoo as his family. You pass off the message,“And hey, it’s no consolation. But you still have an uncle.”</p><p class="p1">“Not sure if my cousin will ever forgive me for almost getting him killed but—,” he chuckles mirthlessly, but the sentence dies as soon as it comes. Kyungsoo’s eyes peer up at you, the tears having dissipated, replaced with a different gleam of an intangible feeling.</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">“Why did you say that to Mark? When you did?”</p><p class="p1">He’s clued you in vaguely - but as you’ve always felt, you possess an innate understanding of each other to the point that your mind immediately shoots to what he’s referencing. <em>Wait, I hope you’re not mad I almost married your cousin. Because I loved him, too. </em>You’d been on the brink of death, consumed with watching Jaehyun go before you, and horrified with the notion you might never see Mark again. But you’d still thought of Kyungsoo amongst your final moments, and he wants to know why.</p><p class="p1">You press your cheek into his, too overcome to see his face, and you whisper, “You looked out for me when no one else truly did. I could loved you a thousand lifetimes for that alone.”</p><p class="p1">The first ten minutes of your shared presence had been enough. Him singing <em>Candy</em> to Jeno so sweetly to get him to sleep had you just like that.</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo finally touches you in return, reaching his arm around your torso to hold you to him in a sweltering embrace of mutual compassion. Then, he conducts a beautiful symphony of heartfelt realization, “I fell in love with you the day you gave me this.” His unoccupied fingers brush over the sunny square you’d made to represent his departed wife, kept in his pocket over his heart. “Felt guilty as hell, but I did. You were going through the shittiest thing ever and still looked out for me.”</p><p class="p1">He is the most beautiful what-if of your life.</p><p class="p1">As you’re wiping away the twin dots of tears that had ventured out to join in the shared sorrow, a ribbon of peace winds its way around your heart. You separate from him a bit, enough to ask in a teasing voice, “So, Mr. Newly Freed Hottie, what’s the plan?</p><p class="p1">His hand wipes away his tears as he groans at the nickname. He shrugs, more like a man filled with sudden possibility than a dejected one, all tied up with the threads of the old him, “Maybe I’ll choose France for my displacement, hone my legendary cooking skills. Baek’s been asked to model in some fashion weeks, we’ll make a trip of it with Suho and Kai. We all need time to heal.”</p><p class="p1">It can’t be the end for real like this, it does not read like a chapter that’s come to a close like your farewell with Mimi had been. You have to think on your feet to figure out if he feels the same way, “Well, I’m sure that will be all fabulous and European. But if you ever have a hankering to come home and you don’t have a reason to convince yourself to do it, I have one for you.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh yeah, what is that?” he asks with great interest, lip fidgeting with the smirk he’s trying to hide.</p><p class="p1">Baekhyun had already requested to come back and meet Jaehyun over drinks, though you still don’t know if that will ever be possible, despite his surprise appearance in court yesterday. But Kyungsoo is Kyungsoo, and you have a different excuse ready, torn out from the quilt of your heart just for him.</p><p class="p1">“I still owe you something I sewed,” you say, which is true. And then you sew on the totally fake, totally outlandish, but totally solid addendum, “and out of fear of theft, I don’t send my pieces in the mail.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo knows that he has no wiggle room never to see you again, and he doesn’t look upset about it. In fact, you can see the gears grinding in his head, already scheming to think of the most elaborate, extravagant thing he can request for you to make.</p><p class="p1">“Time to go. Both of you,” General Zhang’s voice booms into the room.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, can I please just—,”you beg immediately, right as Kyungsoo stands to do the same, “Is there any way she can see him?” You smile at him, so, so, so unbelievably thankful for everything he is, and the one last way he’s trying to look out for you - by asking for Jaehyun on your behalf.</p><p class="p1">“I am sorry we made such a fuss about that yesterday. The judge also expressed his regret that the rules were so harsh,” General Zhang apologizes, and you allow one drop of hope to boil in your soul. That right away evaporates into a mist of melancholy when he shakes his head in a denial, though he does do it quite regretfully, "But as per the ICC schedule, Mr. Jung is no longer in the capital."</p><p class="p1">See? That drink will never happen, and the dejection pours out from your heart like the glass of whiskey you’ll never share with him again.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t think he’s dumb enough to give up the greatest thing he’ll ever get,” Kyungsoo drawls. “He’ll come crawling back soon.” After sensing your immediate change of mood, he’s putting on the airs of a hotshot know it all, trying to get one sarcastic last dig in in the name of their old, settled feud. But the intentions behind his statement are borne from the most authentic of hearts. You hope he’s right.</p><p class="p1">So, this is goodbye, but only for now. You’ll expect Kyungsoo to come home and cook you a full French feast, whenever that will be. You’ll have a tie waiting for him, at the very minimum.</p><p class="p1">“Eat a baguette for me,” you request as he puts on his jacket. “Once a day.”</p><p class="p1">Kyungsoo waggles his eyebrows, bowing low at your order in a mockery of the way he used to call you <em>your highness</em>. When he stands back up, he’s fully glowing with nothing but appreciative affection for you. He waves, and you’re graced with his solemn, beautiful voice, a snippet of him you’ll hold onto forever,</p><p class="p1">“Until we meet again.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>a peaceful goodbye to ksoo. thank u king</p><p>just 2 chapters to go i'm already crying. thank u for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. salvia rosmarinus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There’s no need to list out each incident you’re grateful for, each laugh, each line, each moment of tenderness. You know he hasn’t disposed of the memory of a single one, and neither have you. This is a thank you to him for simply existing, for choosing you every day since you’ve met.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>while i was writing the epilogue, i mostly listened to happy by taeyeon on complete and utter repeat. that's your song suggestion for this chapter :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You have no less than half a hot dog stuffed in your mouth when Mark asks the question, “This will go better than last time, right?”</p><p class="p1">You’d felt no sense of unease walking into the stadium this time - as demonstrated by the fact that you’ve already honked down two hot dogs, no nervous stomach present. But this being the site of his dad’s arrest obviously has worried Mark a bit. You chew, you swallow, and you hand the rest of the food to him with a comforting, “Well, we already walked in not covered in blood, so I’d put that down as a win for us. Plus, this isn’t an actual game, so we won’t have to get creeped out by the stretch.”</p><p class="p1">You’d agree with him that you’d probably prefer to never hear <em>Take Me Out to the Ballgame </em>again, but this is one of your favorite spots in the nation. He’ll be okay with you alongside him, plus his parents are already waiting inside. He shrugs, pleased with the support you’ve offered, and chows away on the hot dog. The stadium security escorting you informs you, “The second group of guests is arriving now with Mr. Moon’s manager, then we’ll proceed to the field.”</p><p class="p1">You look over to see the M. Kang from Michael’s phone, and are actually delighted to find that it’s a cute young woman, with a bob of black hair and a no-nonsense business suit under her tied up Bats jersey. You love seeing women in sports, and she shoots you a friendly smile when she leads the horde over.</p><p class="p1">“Y/n?”</p><p class="p1">At the sound of your name, you and Mark immediately strain to look for the source in the crowd, having discussed, at length, Jaehyun’s re-appearance and immediate disappearance at the courthouse. Neither of you had seen him beyond the ten minutes in passing that you did. But the tone is off, so it’s not who you’re expecting when you see who’s ebulliently waving to you across the way. It fills you with quite a measure of delight, nevertheless.</p><p class="p1">“Jaemin? Chenle?”</p><p class="p1">Jeno’s old teammates and close friends are here, their moms reluctantly in tow because they’re still underage. As soon as you wave back in acknowledgment, they go sprinting across the concrete, already arguing and shoving each other as they approach.</p><p class="p1">“I get the first hug!” “No, back off dude!” “I saw her first!”</p><p class="p1">They go crashing into you at the same time, now towering over you just as you recall dream Jeno had. It’s a phantom stand in of another hug of his, but you fold them into your smaller frame and relish in the feeling of their excited, still beating hearts. You aren’t even particularly surprised to hear Mark’s frustrated grumble, <em>What am I? Dog poop?</em></p><p class="p1">Jaemin doesn’t even wait to start up his still endearing, quite awkward attempt at flirting with you, “I haven’t seen you in so long! I’m way older now, are you here by yourself?” </p><p class="p1">You glance back to his mother, Mrs. Na’s jaw not quite as clenched as she used to hold it around you. You can’t help the laugh, “I see your mom over there, Jaemin. Besides, I’m here with Mark—,” you reach out to pull your best friend over, to shut his complaining up, but you’re only met with open air. “Mark? Mark, hello? What the fuck are you staring at, dude?”</p><p class="p1">You glance over and he’s several feet away, standing on his tiptoes so he can hear Taeil’s manager greet the fully formed group, “Hello, guests of Mr. Moon. I’m Mina Kang, his personal manager. Please come this way so we can get you fitted for caps and jerseys before we make our way onto the field.” Weird, it’s not like he has to be particularly attentive to know what to do or where to go. You grew up going to this stadium.</p><p class="p1">Jaemin sees that Mark’s too distracted for you to use as an excuse, so he puffs out his chest and adopts a cocky tone, “What were you saying about being here with Mark again?”</p><p class="p1">“Aren’t you a cheeky one, don’t forget you’re still seventeen,” you chide him playfully as you tug at the brim of his cap. You do the same with Chenle, still quiet as ever, and you let out a contented sigh, “I missed ya, nuggets. I missed both of you. Have you guys been doing well?”</p><p class="p1">The group starts to head over to where Mina has indicated, Mark leading a few paces in front of you. You give up the concession of letting each of the teens take one of your arms, jostling you back and forth as you walk to try and get closer to the groups.</p><p class="p1">You let out a grunt when Chenle tugs you his way and announces, “I got recruited to play baseball for Columbia next year.”</p><p class="p1">“And I…” Jaemin yanks you back savagely, “will be entering the national draft.”</p><p class="p1">It’s a funny thought, you feel yourself tearing up even in the middle of this childish tug of war with you as human rope. But they’d all grown up together, they were supposed to be the stars of the next generation, and two of them will be. That’s confirmation enough that Jeno would’ve done the same. “Ah, I’m so proud and happy for you guys. I know he would’ve been, too," you sigh. The two boys are wise enough, even for teens, to know exactly who you’re talking about.Together, you take a moment to silently acknowledge the third boy who should be here to celebrate his idol.</p><p class="p1">Once the moment has passed, Jaemin roars right back to his mission, “So, when I’m finally a famous baseball player, will you give me a shot?”</p><p class="p1">“Kid, I’m sorry but I’m taken—,” you’re about to step through the threshold of the door when your nose collides against the skull of someone else, knocking stars right into your vision. You know exactly what rock hard head this is, you don’t bother opening your eyes before you’re grumbling, “Mark, jeeeeezus, you can’t keep stopping like that. I almost broke my nose on your bumpy ass head.”</p><p class="p1">“Lele, he’s staring at that girl.”</p><p class="p1">Oh, holy shit, this is going to be good. Mark? Staring at a girl? You’ll never let him hear the end of this, not ever. You see the first group of people milling around the suite, chatting and taking pictures of the stadium, then you realize that Mark hadn’t actually been staring at a girl. In the corner, there’s Johnny, talking exuberantly with his hands, cap about to fall off. Michael is there, beside him his wife, looking on with much enthusiasm.</p><p class="p1">And so is Jaehyun. Leaning back onto a side table like he owns the place, he has an amused grin pasted up on his face, dimples on full display as he listens intently to his best friend. The red of his already prepared jersey accentuates his windswept hair - that you still can’t believe is black - so perfectly.</p><p class="p1">“Jae.”</p><p class="p1">“What?” Jaemin answers as soon as he hears the first syllable of his name accidentally come out of your mouth. But you only wave him off with a distracted hand as Mark goes running through the space to tackle his best friend in an embrace.</p><p class="p1">Mina chooses that moment to stand on a stool right in front of the duo to address the room with a megaphone, “Everyone, we need to be quick for this to start on time. Hats are one size fits all, adjustable, and shirts are lined out here in size order.”</p><p class="p1">There’s so much going on in this room, the commotion of kids clamoring for jerseys, Jaemin asking why you’d called for him, adults lining up their drink orders, a different conversation you should’ve been much more interested in, <em>“Hi, I’m—,” “Mark, I know. I’m Mina.” </em>You hone in on the first cap in the stack right in front of you. You don’t need it, because you already have one on, but you’re going to take it to distract yourself anyways. Your fingers run over the seams of the lid, the jagged threads providing some kind of sensation to your extremities.</p><p class="p1">You feel a large hand ghost over your back. You look up to see Johnny passing you by with a head nod as he steps to the bar for a beer, and you twist to greet him, “Hi, John.” Though you know you haven’t forgotten it, you still nearly fall against the table in utter surprise when you turn back to the hat you’d picked out and see Jaehyun right beside you. Your voice trembles like a shaky, baby bird, “Hi.”</p><p class="p1">He grabs the hat to pass off to you, then totally blurts, “I literally thought you were dead.”</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun clenches the remaining hats in his hands, folding them up under stress, and he whispers, “Nobody told me until I saw you in the courtroom. I left and sobbed that entire recess.”</p><p class="p1">“I, I didn’t know,” you stutter, now actually surprised at what he’s revealed, “I had no idea, Jae—, I’ve called you every day.” You don’t even feel cringe or embarrassed to take out your phone and show him the rows and rows of red-lined disconnected calls. Calls to a contact you had saved as, in a call to his corny self, <em>my honeysuckle prince, </em>with a gold heart emoji to match his old hair and his eyes. Like, you don’t do that shit. </p><p class="p1">His eyes widen at the sight, then he immediately exclaims, “Dorado numbers don’t work in Korea! I had to get a new phone!”</p><p class="p1">“Korea, Jae, what?!” you gasp, feeling like you’re being jerked back and forth by those boys again. He was really halfway across the globe, he wasn’t even in Dorado?</p><p class="p1">“This way, everyone, we’ll be walking out to the pitch right now.”</p><p class="p1">Mina begins herding the guests through the door so you can take the private set of stairs to the field’s entrance. Jaehyun grabs your arm to pull you to the back of the crowd, in a placement that allows you to talk without being overheard. The sensation of his skin touching yours once more is so foreign yet innate that you have to grip the stair railing with all your might not to topple over.</p><p class="p1">He’s trying to keep quiet but his frustrated anxiety has his voice’s echo careening all over the concrete stairwell, “When I finally came around from surgery, Mom packed up the house and took me to my aunt’s in Seoul. Sunny came too, but she went to her own sister’s after. I asked Mom and she… never said specifics, she only cried whenever I brought you up. And like, Korea doesn’t carry much of Dorado’s news, especially now that you are just a civilian. I looked, trust me. I looked all over for you.”</p><p class="p1">If they left as soon as he was healed, that means you were only in your first month of convalescence. Mrs. Jung wouldn’t have had any opportunity of finding out if you were lucid or still in that vegetative state. “I didn’t wake up until the beginning of March!” you reveal to him, sending him tripping over the next stair, “Mark said he called, he said everyone called. Why didn’t you call back, you know our numbers!”</p><p class="p1">He holds your arm so tightly you nearly wrench your arm out of the socket trying to move. You freeze on the stair below him to watch Jaehyun’s face crumple into sorrow when he hisses, “Why would I call if I thought you were <em>dead</em>? There’s no coming back from that!”</p><p class="p1">It’s the identical thought, that neither of you could comprehend being on this earth without the other. This is the same song and dance of misunderstanding, of a complete breakdown in communication, of being held back by emotions and circumstances you didn’t feel in capacity of the strength to control.</p><p class="p1">You gently tug him along to not get locked out of the park, and you breathe out in shock, “Oh my god. How does this always happen?”</p><p class="p1">“Are you good, like what?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m fine. I’m really fine, Jae. Added another scar to the collection, but I’m healthy.”</p><p class="p1">“Me too,” he tells you, the palpable relief in his voice immediately transforming into nerves again as he asks, “are you dating anyone?”</p><p class="p1">What a stupid, sweet, silly boy. You told him you only woke up from a coma a month ago, and he’s scared you’ve somehow found someone to take his irreplaceable place. You flash him your ring finger like you’re making the rudest of rude gestures at his idiotic question. Then you deadpan, “What do you think.” You’ve stepped onto the field by now, you can feel the spring sun beating down. But it pales in comparison to the breadth of Jaehyun’s sunny grin when he sees that you’re wearing his ring, just how much it elevates his handsome everything, just how nicely it still matches the thread tied around his own finger.</p><p class="p1">“Hiya, kiddos.” Michael can’t keep the pleased smile off his face when he sees the pair of you together. He’s not a big winker, so you can’t help but feel suspicious when he shoots one right in Jaehyun’s direction.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun, who suddenly blushes and waves, “Hey again, Michael.”</p><p class="p1">“Let’s get this show on the road, huh?! Don’t want to let the anticipation explode the stadium,” Taeil’s voice booms over the speakers.</p><p class="p1">You look past the two men to see the set-up they’ve prepared on the field, rather modest to acquiesce to Taeil’s standards. They have a podium with the Bats logo emblazoned on the front, an arch of red balloons accentuating it from behind. And because he does deserve a little rah-rah drama, the entire outfield has been sprayed with his congratulating farewell, <em>Moon Forever. </em>You go up to stand by his side as guests of honor with Michael, Mark, and Jeongah, while Jaehyun and Johnny take a couple of chairs a few rows behind in the seated area.</p><p class="p1">Taeil, ever the man of few words, gets right to the point with his announcement, “I have been posted to Major League Baseball, and the Bats have negotiated my contract to join the Boston Red Sox.”</p><p class="p1">There is an explosive gasp of surprise from those who are there, you can hear Jaemin’s screech plainly. You and Mark bump fists surreptitiously behind his father’s back, your errant guess that Boston was his pick turning out to be true.</p><p class="p1">“I would like to thank the our owner, Sooman Lee, who took a chance on a kid that was a tiny lump of a boy with a noodle arm, and never looked back. Thank you to Coach Hwang for grinding that kid into the dust and building me up into the pitcher I am today. To the greatest teammates I could ever have, who made me look better than I think I actually was. Specifically to my center fielder V, without whom I would’ve been retired a long time ago. I seriously owe you big time, so beers in Boston are on me.” The camera pans over to the dugout, where the foxy athlete raises his cap in a salute to his teammate.</p><p class="p1">Taeil turns to the row of people to his right, gesturing to a sweet older couple who are seated and acknowledging them,“Of course I wouldn’t be here without my family, especially my parents who drove me to six am practice every day when I was in Little League.” Mark hasn’t let go of your hand, and you feel his squeeze of acknowledgment. You did that for Jeno, too, this would’ve been your thanks in his celebration when he got posted.</p><p class="p1">“My wife, my high school sweetheart, who’s worn my jersey to every game since, who’s going to have a very luxurious Boston townhouse this summer. I love you, baby. Thanks to all my friends, my old teammates, anyone who’s given me support during my career. And specifically, to Bats fans here and around the world. I have felt your love so dearly every time I took the mound, you’ve gotten me through the toughest points in my years here, I’ve done it all to bring a smile to your faces. For nine innings once every five days, you could forget what was going on and watch me play some baseball.”</p><p class="p1">Okay, at that you can’t help it, you look right to Jaehyun in the seats before you. You don’t know if Taeil has slipped in that line as a slight nod to you, but you feel its important weight laid across your soul. You catch the slightest wrinkle of his nose in corroboration, that he’s never forgotten just how healing baseball was for you during your darkest times.</p><p class="p1">You think that Taeil’s done speaking, it’s very much his style to say his thanks and move on. But he flips a page on his prepared speech and continues,</p><p class="p1">“I’m old for a baseball player, and I’ve played my whole career here in Neozone. There were times ages ago when I could’ve moved onto bigger and better things, hell, my first season’s stats could’ve gotten me a contract in America. I was content to stay here where I was happy, build my legacy in a city that loved me. So I know you must be wondering, <em>Moon, why now?</em>”</p><p class="p1">He steps away from the podium to come and sit in front of it, the grass tickling his ankles as he lounges on the field he loves. Taeil doesn’t look at the papers anymore, he goes to speaking straight from the heart. “Let me tell you a story, indulge me for a second,” he leans back, head against the logo, eyes closed as he sets the scene, “there was this kid who wanted to grow up and be a baseball player, but circumstances changed and he couldn’t do that anymore. Pretty run of the mill story at first glance, but it really hit me when I heard. I thought to myself, when I was his age, what was the dream of my life? And that, for fifteen year old Taeil Moon, was to play in the MLB.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“So yes, today is my farewell to the team, until I decide to return home and end my career here. But today, we are also retiring the number thirteen from Neozone Bats use, forever, in honor of that fifteen year old boy who inspired me. Jeno Lee.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You’re stunned to your absolute core. You must look like a fish with the way your jaw’s hanging open. When you glance up at Michael, he’s done the same, only he’s had enough presence of mind to cover it with his hand. Mark’s let go of your fingers in surprise to grab at his mother, who’s a few inches behind you now with the momentum of her stumble. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">On the Jumbotron they’re showing these old pictures of Jeno, him in Little League with his first coach, on the tee during batting practice with his dad, of you and Mark with an obnoxiously huge fathead of his face. You don’t know how they’ve gotten these but you’re tearing up — one of him and his mom when he was a toddler, both of them holding plastic bats, another of you, Mark, John, Jaehyun, and Yuta behind him at his first game in middle school.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Taeil is still talking, treating Jeno with the reverence and respect of a departed legend, “I didn’t know him when he was alive, but I went back and I watched all the tape on him I could find. Kid was electric. Would’ve knocked me from the front of the rotation in no time at all.He was supposed to play with me, he was supposed to be the one I would be handing the ball off to as I faded into my glory days.Instead he’s given me the courage to go for a second chance of a lifetime, the chance to live out my childhood dream for the both of us.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh my god, bee, </em>Mark’s gasp peals out into the stadium, upon finding out that it is his kid brother that has propelled the greatest baseball player of your generation to reach for his dreams. </span>
</p><p class="p1">“We have his old teammates and friends here, plus his entire family,” Taeil stands to present you to the crowd, each of you waving in still shocked delight when the camera pans over you, “his father Michael, mother Jeongah, brother Mark, sister y/n.” When the camera re-focuses back on the man of the hour, he holds his hands out to beseech those that are watching, “Please celebrate my accomplishment as you wish, but even more so celebrate the driving force behind it. Farewell, thirteen. Each pitch is for you.”</p><p class="p1">Those in the crowd stand to follow, and Jaehyun and Johnny are crying so sweetly as they turn and link arms. Michael’s arm slings around your shoulder on one side, and he pulls Mark into the other, who tucks his mother in beside him. Together, you all turn your attention to the illuminated arc of honor at the front of the stadium. The Bats have always placed the numbers of their retired icons on flags at the very apex of the structure, where they're impossible to miss by any fan. Old hurlers, iconic hitters, gritty coaches, franchise saving general managers, they’re all there.</p><p class="p1">But this time, they’re stepping aside for a very special boy.</p><p class="p1">In a moment of complete peace, the spring breeze catches the lick of white fabric before the grounds crew have it fully hoisted onto the pole, and you see Jeno’s flag, proudly displaying his jersey number, thirteen, and the three characters spelling out<em> LEE.</em> It’s poetic to watch, this beacon of white being raised to the sky, like it’s an angel that’s taking its grand return to the heavens. You press a kiss to your once injured palm and let it fly to him, waving and laughing as you think of a pair of Conan socks that should’ve been draped on the pole beneath the flag.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Farewell, kiddo, you’re a Bats legend forever.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“May all of Jeno’s friends and family please join us for a ceremonial pitch toss.”</p><p class="p1">Jaemin and Chenle’s excited hollers echo through the stadium, and Jaehyun and Johnny are not far removed from childish glee themselves, goofily pushing each other as they fight to see who gets to throw to V Kim. A ball makes its way into your outstretched palm with a tight smack, and Taeil reaches to tweak at the brim of your cap.</p><p class="p1">“Make sure you throw straight, y/n,” he warns with a sly grin, “wouldn’t want him to make fun of you now.”</p><p class="p1">You growl and lift the ball in a threatening way, like you’re going to pelt him with it. He ducks and hides as he scurries to home plate to get himself sent up. Once Taeil’s glove is outstretched, you take one last glance up into the sun, that’s only gotten glowier in the time since his announcement, and that is all the encouragement you need. You think of the times you, Jeno, and Mark worked on pitches together, and you wind up to let it fly in the same way he did. The satisfying thwack of the ball hitting leather is cathartic as hell, and you let out a loud holler of victory, <em>Whooooo!</em></p><p class="p1">Taeil jumps up with the ball in hand, yelling in success at your perfect throw, and he goes beelining back the way he went, headed straight to tackle you. Only he’s tackled first by Mark’s mother, caught completely off guard. She lifts him in her arms like he’s a kid as she cry-shouts, “Thank you! Thank you so much, I had no idea you were going to do that for my baby.” Then she actually fully lifts him off the ground with some strength you didn’t know she had, and twirls him around and around.</p><p class="p1">“Ma’am. Ma’am,” Taeil taps her shoulder, voice woozy, “I get motion sickness.”</p><p class="p1">“Sweetheart, you’re too strong,” Michael laughs as he helps his wife put the baseball player down. He does look moved with gratitude though, as he offers up his own hug to the other man, and his nice words of congratulation, “Thank you, son. Please let me know if I can get you set up with anything. We’ll definitely try to make it out to Boston this summer as a family.”</p><p class="p1">Oooh. Boston in the summer might be quite nice.</p><p class="p1">“What’s up bro, that was siiiick!” Mark daps up Taeil like they’ve been bros for life. “The Red Sox are going to be amazing this year!”</p><p class="p1">You join the little party as well, accepting the ball he passes off as a memento and drawling, “Hey, <em>Mr. Mooooon</em>. Nice little speech out there.”</p><p class="p1">He sticks his tongue out in his distaste for that nickname, but continues talking to you anyways, “Can you do me a favor, y/n? I forgot my phone in my bag, and Mina’s busy with the press right now.” Though Taeil’s only addressed you directly, both you and Mark look over at the same time, to see that the manager is indeed fielding questions from reporters.</p><p class="p1">“I will for a home plate ticket to your season opener,” you trill, but you’re already going to where the security guard’s gestured towards the clubhouse door.</p><p class="p1">You’re freaking out inside, you’ve always dreamed of seeing where the team does all of their game prep and strategizing. Putting the ball into your purse, you get your phone at the ready to take as many pictures as you can to rub into Mark’s face. But as you take the final few steps in from the dugout, the device goes clattering across the concrete when your hand goes slack.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is already anxiously pacing inside, and you can already tell it’s not because he’s breaking and entering. You think of Michael’s wink, and his blush earlier, and you gasp, “Oh my god, did you scheme?”</p><p class="p1">He jumps, startled, but his twitching dissipates when he sees you there. He cops to it right away, “Yeah, of course. An event that Michael and John both showed up to? Easy guess that you’d be here, and Taeil was all too happy to help out.” He eyes you up and down, taking his sweet, sweet time to do so, and then he sighs in such a lovelorn way, “You look pretty, by the way. You’d look pretty in anything, but especially in that.”</p><p class="p1">What you’re wearing is the old Bats jersey they’d pooled their money to get you as your graduation gift. He’s too cute. And you can’t be apart from him any longer.</p><p class="p1">You really hope there are no security cameras in the clubhouse active to capture the way you both meet eyes for a second, then break into a desperate run through the cavern of space that’s opened between the two of you. You meet in the center in such a cacophonous detonation of feeling, his mouth pressing right into yours with no hesitation, your lips the last drop of water poised for him, a dehydrated, despondent, isolated man in a barren world. You kiss once, twice, his mouth hot and open, his hands gently cradling your face from both sides. You’re prepared to spend the entire time it would take to find a hidden phone in this huge space kissing him and then feigning innocence when asked what you were doing.</p><p class="p1">But when you go to luxuriate in a different kind of affectionate gesture - a languid, smooth, ultra indecent for a public location kind of kiss - he pulls back to press his nose against yours and harshly whisper, “I’m so sorry I didn’t call. Shit. I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p class="p1">Your fingers fly to grasp his arms, to anchor him down to you with how much you aren’t mad at him, “I don’t care. Please just tell me if you’re okay.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not, I’m really not. Yuta died!” He’s falling apart, unable to keep his voice from breaking over every literal syllable as his beautiful, crystal, hurtful tears start up again, “My dad almost <em>killed</em> you. Does it make sense why I never called, emailed, anything now? How could I have spoken to anyone if it was my own father who killed you?”</p><p class="p1">It makes sense, of course. You yourself had to live an entire city apart from Mark and Michael when you’d felt the entire load of Jeno’s death upon your back. This must’ve been so much worse for him considering the true depth of both of your feelings.</p><p class="p1">He can’t be this broken, it induces the same pain threshold that his father’s knife through your stomach had. You cling to him so tightly and whisper, “I’m alive, I’m alive, that’s all that matters.”</p><p class="p1">“The ICC knew where we were. They weren’t legally allowed to say per the terms of our agreement, but they approached on Michael’s behalf. I came here not knowing what was going on with you, thinking that advocating for Kyungsoo would undo one shred of the evil Dad put into the world. That seeing him would be like seeing you again, but then I actually saw you again.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, they had me under extreme protective custody as per the trial terms.”</p><p class="p1">“I get it, but like.” He steps back, the nervous pacing reappearing, and this time as he tugs on his hair as he thinks of the week that’s just passed, “Oh my god, I’ve been just a huge fucking mess. I flew to Korea and back just for this, and I cried the whole time.”</p><p class="p1">You jog around to his front so he has no path to continue on, and you reach for his hand, holding it right to your chest over your beating heart. His fingers spread out on instinct, keening through the fabric of your jersey, through your skin, working to convince himself in real time that he can actually feel your heartbeat, the sign you’re still alive. You glance up into his glossy amber eyes, his dewdrop flecked eyelashes, and you murmur, “I just don’t understand why you had to suffer this whole time. Mom told me you were alive the day I woke up. I called you the moment they left me alone.”</p><p class="p1">“I. I have no idea—,”</p><p class="p1">“Jaehyun. What are you doing.”</p><p class="p1">You have both leaped in surprise at the displeased interruption, somehow bolting his hand right to your chest with your hold. In one united piece, you look up to see that the stadium entrance to the clubhouse has been opened by a ballpark employee, but they’re not alone in seeing it all, they’re with—, “Mom.”</p><p class="p1">Jaekyung hurries down the stairs with all her might. Jaehyun scrambles right to block you out of sight, hand flying to hold your waist from the front. She doesn’t acknowledge you at all, though she’s very clearly just seen you, and when she tries to grab for his arm, Jaehyun literally shoves her off him.</p><p class="p1">She stomps a foot and instructs him, “Our flight leaves in an hour. We have to go, now.”</p><p class="p1">Wait, what? His flight? He’s supposed to go back to Korea <em>today?</em> No, no, he’s just got here, you’ve only kissed him this one time, that’s not enough.</p><p class="p1">Preparing to beg him not to leave, you’ve completely missed the wheel of realization turning in Jaehyun’s head. However, you do get to see the entire way his face, more like his whole body, hardens to ice with his theory. Next, hear the brutish tone of his voice he chooses to address his mother with, “Oh my god. You kept this from me on purpose. You did, didn’t you?”</p><p class="p1">You’re actually kindhearted enough to have your first thought be, <em>how could you think something like that about your mother? </em></p><p class="p1">And then Jaekyung just razes over all the goodwill you were kind enough to grant her, “You were never supposed to find out! How can we live in a place like this anymore?! Everyone knows what your father did, you cannot live under the weight of that!” You don’t know how she knows, but you have a feeling that one of Michael’s first calls had actually gone through. This is the hallmark of being a mother, undeniable protection, coming to fruition in an unpleasant way.</p><p class="p1">“So you chose to protect me by lying about how my wife was dead! What, seriously what the fuck is wrong with you!” he roars back.  </p><p class="p1">“It worked, didn’t it! I will not allow you to have your father’s legacy hang over your head like this, over your children’s heads!”</p><p class="p1">You press your palm right into his back to let him know you’re on his side. Jaehyun goes super, super quiet, and he ceases his yelling to lecture her with a full, wounded heart, “That was the point of all this, Mom. I have to show that I am not my father. I can’t do that by hiding.”</p><p class="p1">He’d already proven as much indirectly, by swearing to his father he’d never hide your Tactix heritage from your children. With the way Mark and his father are building the new nation, it’d be quite the day of punishment if anyone was to dare question or discriminate against your children because of where they were from or who their grandfather was. Not like you would let anyone know that part of your history, anyways.</p><p class="p1">“Jeffrey, come here,” she orders, in an eerie recall to her late husband.</p><p class="p1">Both his hands go to you now, the one defense he has left. “Mom, no.”</p><p class="p1">“You have a job, a normal life in Korea! You can forget everything that happened here and start all over again,” she begs him, literally begs him as she gets down on her knees to grab at his legs. She’s nothing but a mother trying, to do everything to shield a defiant child that she knows can make his own choices. You don’t have to say anything, this isn’t your fight. Even if Jaehyun went away, you’d support him through anything - you’ve already made that decision for yourself. </p><p class="p1">“What’s going on here?” an authoritative voice reverberates through the tension-filled space.</p><p class="p1">You flip your head to see who it is, Jaehyun still not letting you go as he does the same. You feel a glug of relief push into your bones at the sight of Michael, Mark, John, Taeil and the others in the doorway with security, clearly having gotten concerned at your lack of return, and not simply because of your kissing.</p><p class="p1">Mark very carefully lifts his head in your direction, not wanting to set anything off, and is firm when he asks, “Bee, you good?”</p><p class="p1">You nod.</p><p class="p1">Out of nowhere, Jaehyun starts apologizing to Mark’s father, “Sorry I never called, sir. I spent this whole time thinking that y/n was dead.” To the tune of awkward exclamations of surprise from the other men, he turns to shoot his mother a particularly loathsome sneer, <em>this is all your fault. </em>Then, he composes himself back up into politeness to finish, “You can imagine why I wouldn’t.”</p><p class="p1">Michael doesn’t move, doesn’t rush to de-escalate or preach. This is a matter that’s reaching its boiling point, that needs to froth over the edge to get back to normal. He looks Jaehyun in the eye, man to man, and asks, “No worries, son. You getting the help you need?”</p><p class="p1">“I will, yes,” Jaehyun confirms, recognizing that his problems are definitely for a professional to handle, not a plethora of equally as damaged people.</p><p class="p1">“Michael, come on,” Jaekyung implores her old friend from her spot on the ground, trying to appeal to his tender heart as a father, “you need to get him to come home with me.”</p><p class="p1">Michael hesitates. He’d been perfectly perfect in how he dealt with you in this situation. He'd acquiesced to your request to be left alone in Neozone, didn't cross the line of communication once, did what he thought was right in helping you to heal on your own. But he’d come home to find you in no better state than how he’d left you, and you’re hoping he sees that can’t happen again here. You’ll get on your knees yourself and beg if you have to.</p><p class="p1">He shoots a grim smile towards his fellow parent, and he addresses her with much sympathy, “Jaekyung, if you need to take time to grieve, you go.” His next words are for you though, dedicated to Mark, to John, and especially to Jaehyun, the man he’d called his other son, “But we’ve always got him.”</p><p class="p1">Your mother was right when she said it. Michael is a father to you all.</p><p class="p1">“She’s right, I need to go back,” Jaehyun replies, out of nowhere.</p><p class="p1">You spin in place to implore him not to go, to not cave out of his sense of propriety after you’ve all fought for him so fiercely. You hold his arms, like you’re the strongest person in the world with a mission to keep him here, and you only whisper his name, “Jae.”</p><p class="p1">“Y/n,” he whispers back, in a light mockery of your desperation. “I have to get my things and I can’t quit my job without consequence.” He lifts his fingers to boop you on the nose, a very corny old Jaehyun thing to do, and he murmurs his promise right to you, “Then, I’ll be on the first flight back I can get.”</p><p class="p1">To show off his defiance, to prove a point, to seal a promise, and perhaps just because he wants to, Jaehyun kisses you one last time, in front of absolutely everyone. And then he picks up his mother and leaves, his exit set to the background music of your blush blooming across your cheeks, heartbeat thundering in your ears, and Jaemin gasping, <em>That’s who she’s taken by?! I’m doomed!</em></p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">There’s Tupac blasting in his ear, Mark and your father have been yelling for the past hour, the two moms have the TV on Real Housewives at full volume, and Michael looks like he can’t hear a single thing with how blankly he’s staring off into the distance.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You sink down onto the couch beside him and you wave a hand in front of his face, joking, “You look far too stressed for a man who should be on vacation.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Did you know that setting up a country has so many details. Like so many nitty gritty… shitty details.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I would figure, yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He grumbles over the struggle that has been plaguing him, “Like a flag? How the hell does someone design a flag?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t you have designers helping you?” you ask, having seen enough of Jeno’s old school projects to know Michael does not possess the creativity gene.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, but I’m supposed to have some kind of all knowing, godly decision making power that will pick the perfect flag to unite the country,” he uses some fake, half-assed British accent that makes you laugh, surely from one of the pompous UN officials. “I’m half tempted to pick another geometric cube, slap it on a black background and call it a day.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Well, Neozone is all about flowers, right, honey?” Jeongah calls over her glass of wine. “You have to put that in there.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I know, I said that, but if we do one region’s symbol, we have to include the other’s,” he gripes again, always in the interest of fairness between the two previous regions. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Your mother looks up from the same scrap of sewing she’s been working on, the same flowered tulle. You’d finally felt good enough to let her sew honeysuckles all over it, golden and sparkling amongst the other flowers she’s put in. She nods her head over to the bookshelf by the TV and offers, “I think I might have some Elyxion history books around here. You can find something neutrally fitting.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“No, no, we can’t be neutral,” Jeongah reminds her, connected Elyxion sisters that they are, “this new era needs to be built off of as much pride in ourselves as possible. The Tree of Life, maybe?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">The sparks a wildfire of an idea for you, and without warning, you reach over Michael to steal the scrap of paper he’s discarded in his frustration. Taking his pencil too, you rush to work out a light sketch of what you’re thinking of. A memory of a quilt, a fresh blanket of flowers, and a story that had changed your mind completely.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You hum as you work, sketching faster than you ever have. It’s not quite inspiration to sew something of your own again, but it feels close. “I’m not a designer, I’m only a seamstress. But if I was you, I’d do something like this…” You re-orient the paper so he can get a better look at what you’ve drawn out, and then you tease, “The all knowing, godly decision making power probably knows best.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He holds the paper up to the light, like that will help him pick out the idea of the finished product from this crude sketch, and then he breathes out, “Are you… are you a genius?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He flips the drawing around so that his wife and your mom can see, and their faces both go alight with approval. “Sweet pea, this is a great idea.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Can we please stop puffing up bee?” Mark hollers from the kitchen, wiping his face and getting flour all over it. “We’ve known for years she’s the best sewer here— sorry, ma’am,” he apologizes in meek deference to your mother, “but I just made croissants for the first time!” </span>
  <span class="s1">He’d been begging your father for days to learn the secret family recipe, and your dad had finally caved. With a snarky eye roll to Michael, you all put away your things, your sewing and your sketches, to get up and crowd around the sheet of baked goods. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Oooh, let’s have a look, bumble,” you croon as you poke one of the flaky, golden pastries, “did you put chocolate in some of them?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Your father pulls out the bag of chocolate chips out from the pocket of his apron, where he’s stowed them away to prevent Mark from getting them. It’s an action explained by his amused grumble, “He ate more of the chocolate than he put in.” Together, your dad and your best friend start to pass out the pastries, glowing with pride that they’ve come out at least this aesthetically pleasing. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Your recipe?” Jeongah asks through a mouthful of dough, something Jeno would do. Mark nods at your dad in approval, then beams when she sighs in contentment, “These are amazing, lovey.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">At your custom ringtone of Baekhyun’s voice crooning out a lovesick little lyric, you feel for your phone in the pocket of your jeans. You pull it out, recognizing a very cheesy old contact of a new number flashing on the screen, and take your leave from the kitchen, “I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You’re halfway up the stairs to your room, have accepted the call, are about to hold it up to your ear and answer when you pick up Mark’s lewd, shouted reminder, “Remember that we can hear you, no sexual content please!”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Shut the fuck up!” You holler in return, flipping him off though you know he’s not looking. Your crass tone dissolves into girlishness when you flop down onto your comforter and actually answer, “Hi.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Jaehyun is already laughing on the other end, “Hey. Was that Marco?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Of course,” you groan, embarrassed at being called out yet again for talking on the phone with Jaehyun every day. “He and his family came for a surprise visit. I think they’re getting a bit burned out, which is understandable. We’re going to relax and hang out at home this weekend. Not much planned. How are you?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I quit my job today,” he drops it casually, like it’s not the last obstacle you’d been waiting for him to clean up. “Well, the paperwork was finally processed and HR agreed to terminate my contract. Probably blacklisted from working in Korea forever, but I find it hard to care, I guess.” </span>
  <span class="s1">Whatever political consulting firm he’d been hired at had very strict employment rules, including a six month first contract period, where he’d be hit with huge fines and recouped salary amounts if he quit before it was through. He’d drained a good portion of his personal fortune to pay these off, satisfied he was giving away his father’s blood money for what could be considered a good cause - getting home to you. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I still can’t believe you went out and got a job after a month of recovery, you overachiever,” you tease, knowing exactly how shitty you felt in your healing process from exactly the same wound. You would’ve passed the fuck out if you tried to sit at a desk right after that. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">But Jaehyun doesn’t seem to appreciate that joke, because his voice immediately goes sullen, “I mean, what else was I going to do? Sit at home and wallow in the darkness? At least they worked me to the bone each day so that I could forget.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Jae—,”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I know, I know,” he catches himself before he can get too depressed about it. “That’s not healthy at all. Lotta shit to sort out. I definitely have not processed any of it.” He also sighs very pointedly and takes the initiative to tack on, “I know you’re going to ask. I have consultations set up. I’m going to force myself to go.” </span>
  <span class="s1">All of you have been in therapy, and you’ve already made so much progress with processing your grief. He’ll probably feel much better once he gets back and is able to start going himself.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“How are things with your mom?” you ask, with all caution.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I couldn’t tell you. We haven’t spoken. I don’t think we’ve been in the same room without my aunt as buffer. Sunny even came back from her family’s and she couldn’t help,” he mumbles, obviously sad about the development but wanting to stick to his guns. “I still can’t believe it. I get she was trying to protect me in some kind of fucked up way, but she knew exactly how I felt about you, she knew it all. It was just like Dad, but somehow felt even worse.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You get that entirely. She’d been sneaky and manipulative about your mortal status in the hopes of manipulating him into staying in Korea with her forever. While it’s not as dastardly of a crime as the ones his father had committed in regards to you, you can tell he feels so much more betrayed by her. She’d specifically sworn to love you as a daughter-in-law that night you’d all met formally, had given him the ounce of hope that he’d have a parent supportive of the relationship he’d ultimately given up everything for. </span>
  <span class="s1">It’s not your place to tell him to forgive his mother. You’d held your own ill feelings towards your parents and you’d managed to find it in your heart to forgive them. Perhaps it’s still possible for him, somehow.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I won’t say anything, because I don’t have the right to do so. I can only hope you get to the place where you find peace about her,” you tell him honestly. You add on what is required sentiment by this point, “I want you to be happy more than anything.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I think coming back to Dorado will fix a lot of things. Just the idea of sleeping in our bed again makes it feel so much better,” he admits. You have to admit in turn that hearing him refer to either of the beds in your homes as <em>our</em> bed sends a whole host of butterflies migrating up the length of your spine.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You’ve allowed him to act on his own terms, but you have curious desire still to know more, “When will that be?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">After another hefty exhale, Jaehyun answers with hesitation and care, not wanting to get you excited for no reason, “I don’t know, I have to ride out the rest of the time I owe the company, then somehow get myself to the point I don’t feel totally guilty walking out on my mom. Soon, I promise, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Sure, you’re a bit disappointed there’s no concrete date, but he’s promised again. You know he won’t break it. “I’ll be here,” you want to give him as much encouragement as you can, “we’ll all be here.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Bee! Hurry the fuck up!”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You groan out loud at Mark’s rude interruption, but at least he hadn’t yelled about sexual things this time. “I’ve gotta go. I l—,”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, wait, honey bun,” Jaehyun says, in an effort to stop you from leaving just yet. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Despite every thread stitching your heart together being plucked in joyous song, you hide behind the mask of your sarcastic derision, groaning, “Oh my god, that might be the worst thing I’ve ever heard you say. Pure cringe.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He sees through it without effort, “You love it, and you know it.” There’s a beautiful second of a pause of silence from his end, and then oh so very quietly, he asks, “Are you….? Happy?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You think you are, but you can’t answer in full affirmative when he’s so obviously sorting through issues. You know you hadn’t felt true happiness until you’d seen him in the courthouse, until you’d kissed him once again at the stadium.But being apart in this manner, living within two different worlds connected only by a phone, it feels almost like you’re lying if you say that yes, you are happy.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Bee!”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Go, go,” he urges you when he hears his best friend through the receiver, washing away his earnest question and giving you an acceptable exit to stop agonizing over the answer. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“I love you,” you profess, as smitten and infatuated with him as you’ve ever been, maybe even more so now that he’s slipped away from you again, “I’m sorry I didn’t say it at the game, but I love you. I love you, I love you.” You can’t keep the giddy grin off your face, one you know he can hear through the phone, as you practically sigh in dipped honey, “God, Jae, I love you so much.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">His melodic chuckles are not unlike the twinkling rays of spring sunset coming in through the window. His confession of, “I’ll love you forever,” is synonymous to how you feel warmed over by those golden rays, especially when he adds, “Say hi to Marco. Tell him I love him, too.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You try not to let the dull ring of the dial tone bother you. It’s not long, now. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You go running down the stairs, hair flying in the wind behind you, skidding on your sock as you round the corner to the kitchen, hollering, “Okay, okay, I’m ready for a croiss—,” Only to stub your toe on a stool, curse, and look around in confusion when you don’t see any of them eating croissants. “What is going on here?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">They’re all sitting around the dining table, solemn like they’re discussing something serious, but not sad like it’s about someone dying. Your father holds out an arm, and you meander over to lean into his side, perch on the corner of seat he frees for you, “Sweet pea, the Lees said they had something they wanted to talk to us about.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"><em>What the hell? </em>you mouth to Mark when none of the real adults are looking, but he doesn’t answer, only mouthing back a cryptic,<em> You’ll see.</em></span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Michael stands up at the head of the table, beads of perspiration dotting his brow a sign that he’s nervous about this. Is this lingering stress from the flag thing? You were under the impression that you’d solved that one for him. </span>
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I did come here for an escape, but that’s not the total truth,” he starts, then smiles upon your family with gratitude as he moves to the reasoning, “you all have known the projects we’ve been working on, you’ve provided us with a lot of help and guidance since the war ended. I wanted you to be the first to hear that our initiative to open up the blossom tradition to the whole nation was unanimously approved by the council.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">You meet Mark’s eye again, excited expression blossoming over your face, and he winks at you, <em>this was my idea, and don’t you forget it</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my gosh, congratulations!” Your father is the only one with wits about him left to applaud them.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“It turns out that no matter what, we’re all still suckers for things like true love,” Mark quips, thinking fast on his feet to prevent everyone from getting too hypnotized by the political speech. “The Ministry of Cultivation will begin construction of a new location on the west side of the country, and in the meanwhile, those who wish to get a seed before it’s opened just have to go to the original building. Or they can send in a request to have it mailed to them.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Your father hops to his feet to walk over and shake Michael’s hand in approval. Your mother and Jeongah hug in excitement, with the former crowing, <em>That’s so great, I’m so proud of you!</em> She knows that while Yuta was the biggest inspiration behind this new rule of the land, Mark had ultimately put this forth so that no one would experience the pain he did when he’d almost lost his mother for good as a kid. Her stories about her life in captivity surely turned all of the skeptical voters their way.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“That’s not all, though,” Jeongah says, in a unusually calculated manner that has you all piqued with interest. She nods to Mark, “Lovey, you want to take this?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Mark clears his throat as he stands up, and your father meanders back to hover behind where you’ve taken over the entire seat of his chair. Mark looks nervous now, too, fidgeting with his sleeves, before he speaks to your parents, “Bee—, y/n’s told me all of your story. I think that connects us more than we ever would’ve thought.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">It’s the origin story of your twin souls being brought into this world. Individuals from both regions coming across each other in university by only happenstance, then giving up each and every tie to their roots in the name of true love.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Michael takes the opportunity to interject over his son, “I’ve always admired that your love was strong enough to ignore something that is so deep seated in who we are. Not to get too philosophical, but that’s probably the greatest hallmark of a fated relationship I’ve ever seen.” He and his wife share their own undecipherable, yet happy gaze - the kind of gaze only couples meant for each other would know - then he lightly jokes, “Even we were weak enough to cave, and look where that got us.” </span>
  <span class="s1">You’re glad that you’re at the point now that you can joke about how Jeongah stealing her seed packet had gotten their family into so much devastating trouble. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Mark and his mother nod along with Michael’s sentiment, and his fingers slip into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a pristine white envelope. His hands fidget over it, turning it this way and that, the white moving back and forth as he searches for his words. </span>
  <span class="s1">“As the architect of this motion, it was my honor to receive the first seed packet that was available to all. I really had no idea who to give it to, because I didn't want to take it for myself, not yet.” He extends that envelope right to your mother and very kindly offers, “So, no pressure, but. It’s yours if you want it.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, Mark,” she gasps, just as you do the same, “Bumble.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Again,” Jeongah slips in the denial her son has forgotten to detail beyond <em>no pressure, </em>“we totally understand if you’re set in your ways, content to know that you hold your own love for each other.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Of course. But isn’t this why we healed the nation?” Mark asks the rhetorical question to his mother, to all of you. “So that no matter where you were from, you had the chance to take part in a tradition cherished by your partner? That you were never made to feel less because of that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Your mother and father must’ve spent agonizing hours discussing this at length. They’d basically said as much to Jaehyun when they’d spoken to him about your life. </span><em>I did not care whether or not I ever saw it bloom. I knew that the tradeoff of leaving her for a what if would not be worth it.</em> But had your mother actually, you know, allowed herself to dream of that specific scenario? Or had she closed it off completely, content with having your father in her life as a self-confirmed kind of true love only?</p><p class="p1">She still hasn’t taken the envelope from Mark, face blank as she stares at it, stuttering, “W-what if… what if?” You’re sure everyone in the room is able to finish the rest of that speculation, <em>what if it doesn’t blossom? </em>You’re also sure everyone in the room thinks that is a crock of shit.</p><p class="p1">“Honey, we don’t have to,” your father reassures her, still as confident as ever that he doesn’t need to see a flower bloom to know he’s already spent a huge portion of his life with his true love.</p><p class="p1">You reach over to grab her hand over the table, to say kindly but obviously, like she’s purposeful in her thickness, “Mom, you really don’t have to if you don’t want to. But you know it will.” It goes beyond the sacrifice, the mutual trust, the shared goals for their lives and their future. No one other than actual soulmates, true love type of people, could be out in the garden for hours together and be perfectly content sitting in silence in the way they are.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Ma’am, can I say one thing?” Mark quietly interjects. When she nods in acceptance, he first shoots you the sweetest, joyous Mark smile ever, and murmurs, “How can something that gave me my best friend be anything other than true love?” </span>
</p><p class="p3">Damn him for being able to make you tear up like this. You shoot Mark a watery smile, <em>I can’t believe I get to have you in my life like this, </em>and he sticks his tongue out at you as he wipes away his own gathered teardrops.</p><p class="p1">“Get me a cup, please, sweet pea,” your mother orders in a soft voice, somehow convinced by Mark’s impassioned and true statement.</p><p class="p1">You and Mark go together to the sink, first patting the smiling strawberry and bee pinned up on the freezer, then buzzing with subtle excitement as you take turns filling up your usual glasses with clear water. Your father has pots and dirt lying right outside, it doesn’t take him much time to come back with two little grey ceramics filled with nutritious brown soil. He knows exactly where he’s stowed away his forgotten flower seed, in a similarly yellowed envelope stuck behind the frame of your kindergarten picture.</p><p class="p1">There’s no words spoken, no ceremony necessary to be performed by a Minister. It’s the simple gathering of six individuals who have been brought together out of love and loyalty. Together, your parents press their seeds deep in the dirt like they’ve done multiple times with real flowers, taking care to smooth out the soil like they showed you. Not a drop of apprehension is present in them when you pass off the cups, they waste no time in lavishing the water right over the soil of the other’s ceramic pot.</p><p class="p1">Perhaps because it knows you’re expecting it first, the familiar strain of the sapphire bluebell rises from deep within the soil. But it is forgotten as soon as it comes, because it’s immediately been met with the shining presence of a bright orange zinnia. The kind of flower that your father’s been unknowingly planting outside your house for who knows how many years by now.</p><p class="p1">There are six echoes of the same gasped, stunned sentiment. Because it’d actually worked, both the national plan and the ceremony, and because of your mother’s flower’s identity. This was a foregone conclusion, something the universe set long before you all arrived here.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my gosh,” she whispers, tears springing to her eyes when she touches one velvety zinnia petal. “How is this possible?”</p><p class="p1">Your father’s hand covers hers as they gently caress the same petal together. He hums in wondrous awe, “These things work in mysterious ways,” then breaks out into a full set of disbelieving chuckles, “I had no way of knowing this. I only planted them because they seemed to go so perfectly with the bluebells.”</p><p class="p1">“Love you, sweetheart,” she whispers up to your father, and he returns the favor, “Love you too, hon.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” Michael blurts out of nowhere.</p><p class="p1">Your father looks over to him in gratitude, bowing his head as he says, “No, we should be the ones thanking you.”</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t even realize I wanted this to happen,” your mom adds on, leaning her head back into her husband's torso as he holds her. “But I did. This was all I ever wanted, ever since we met.”</p><p class="p1">Jeongah goes to join her husband, her elegant voice polite in its deference of your parents’ assumption, “He wasn’t thanking you for accepting the flower or doing the ceremony. You two sacrificed your family all those years ago and saved mine.” Mark’s arm goes around your shoulder, but you don’t register the touch fully. Her kind words have already sent you floating away from your earthly body, watching this all from behind an ethereal haze. You get to see the way your face melts in warmth when she addresses you specifically, “My y/n, I didn’t know you beyond the glimpse of what I saw on the screen. But I just knew you were sent to me straight from heaven, or wherever my baby is right now. You held my family together until I could come home. How could I ever thank you for that?”</p><p class="p1">“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” you whisper, the dam of tears diverted right into the soppy tone of your voice.</p><p class="p1">If anything, it was Michael and Mark who held you together. You’d been through unspeakable tragedies that almost no other human would’ve survived, and you know for sure the only reason you had done so was because of them.</p><p class="p1">“Again, you are the one who should be receiving the thanks here. You opened your home to a girl you didn’t know, and you saved her,” your father has the innate sense to know what you’re thinking in the moment, and looks to you for confirmation, “Right, sweet pea?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” you choke out, your teary eyes meeting hers, “yeah, yeah.”</p><p class="p1">Lost in the emotional exchange, everyone almost misses Michael’s wistful tone, spoken in a quiet manner that’s so unlike any other voice he tends to use, “I don’t think I ever told you this.” You glance over to your best friend, and his eyebrow quirks, telling you he’s also unsure of where his dad is going with this. “One time after it all happened, I was in a meeting with a dignitary from, I’m not even sure anymore. Hungary or somewhere. We were making small talk, and he got to asking me about my family, my kids. He clearly hadn’t heard what had gone on with the kiddo, he was asking just to be polite. And before I knew it, I just blurted it. I still remember exactly what I said, too. Don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” Michael hums, before he smiles upon you and Mark with such a heft of pride he nearly outshines the strength of every star in the galaxy.</p><p class="p1">You won't ever forget it, either. “I said, <em>I have three kids — two sons, and a daughter.</em>”</p><p class="p1">You involuntarily crumple into Mark’s shoulder, grateful tears staining his shirt as you cry, thinking about how much this man has loved you even though he has never been asked to.</p><p class="p1">“That’s what we’re thanking you for,” Jeongah vocalizes, “your family is ours, ours is yours.”</p><p class="p1">The mood devolves into a weepy, emotional mess. Your mothers are hugging and so are your fathers, then they switch so everyone’s gotten an embrace. They come over to you and interlink their arms around their shared children in a halo of devotion. Throughout this all, you and Mark hug so tightly, heads pressed together in affection, finally accepting that there’s no third child to join you, but never willing to forget. As quickly as the crying had taken over, the joy bursts forth like your mother’s newly blossomed flower. She scoops it up and goes running out the door, ready to compare it to the ones that have already been watching over the house. The adults follow her as they holler in laughter, everyone getting their clothes dirty as they start to play in the soil and pull out weeds like they’re kids again.</p><p class="p1">In the middle of your garden are half a dozen newly planted rosemary bushes, a symbol of remembrance that has grown over time. It started with Jeongah — she’d wanted to remember Dohun, and had quickly and silently added a second rosemary sprig for her sister as well. Mark had joined her to plant one for Jeno, and the next time John had stopped by, he planted one for Yuta as you’d added a bundle for Seulgi and a bundle for Sehun. That was rounded out on Hyungsik’s last visit, when you’d given him the proudest of the bunch to rest in the middle, for his grandfather.The parents all grab canisters and shower them with the life-imbuing clear water.</p><p class="p1">You and Mark are the two reserved humans left on the porch. While you watch your mother start to throw dirt on Jeongah, your father swooping to save her flowerpot from knocking over, you murmur, “Want to hear something funny?”</p><p class="p1">“Always.”</p><p class="p1">“I told you I had a dream about Yuta, right?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. The bastard didn’t come to see me, no wonder.”</p><p class="p1">You laugh at his banter, appreciating that he didn’t immediately go to sorrow. You don’t feel any grief yourself when you reveal, “Well, I saw our kiddo in that dream, too. He told me he wanted to win a championship just so he could give me a ring before Jaemin or Chenle.”</p><p class="p1">Mark shakes his head in amused disapproval, muttering, “Why does that sound exactly like him.”</p><p class="p1">“Because that’s who he was,” you state simply. “He also said he was happy.” Whether it was your imagination or if it was real, you’ll be content with knowing that at least somehow, you have confirmation that Jeno’s precious last drops of existence were filled with happiness. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.</p><p class="p1">Mark sucks in a sharp breath, then one satisfied word makes itself known, “Good.”</p><p class="p1">You peer out into the protection of the trees, gathering their strength to tell him what you’ve been preparing to say, “When I was going to kick the bucket, I remember I said <em>thank you</em> to you.”</p><p class="p1">His mouth twists again in mirth at your less than polite phrase to refer to your brush with death, and he asks, “Yeah, why did you?”</p><p class="p1">“I was thinking about Jae, of course,” you move past it fast so Mark doesn’t make fun of you, “and I was going to say thank you, because I wouldn’t have met him without you.”</p><p class="p1">You’ll let him get his little jab in without complaint, “Oh, wow. Wingman of the century goes to me, huh?”</p><p class="p1">You pointedly ignore the comment to continue on in an appreciative voice, “I’ve always kinda felt bad about it, because it should’ve been some dramatic, sappy moment between just the two of us. But at least I got a second chance.” This has been a night of revelation and confession, of gratitude and discovery. You would’ve regretted it if you left this world without expressing to Mark, in your own simple terms, just how much he’s meant to you. You've cared for him since you’d been introduced to each other at the train station as green seventeen year olds. Him, a boy with pink hair, and you, a girl who wasn’t a boy.</p><p class="p1">He leans right over the railing, cocky tilt of his head already primed. He glances over his shoulder to you and entices, “Give it to me good, then.”</p><p class="p1">You hope he’s not expecting a soliloquy or an epic poem. That he’ll somehow not be disappointed when you murmur, with a heart full of love, “Thank you, Mark. Thank you for being my best friend.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no need to list out each incident you’re grateful for, each laugh, each line, each moment of tenderness. You know he hasn’t disposed of the memory of a single one, and neither have you. This is a thank you to him for simply existing, for choosing you every day since you’ve met.</p><p class="p1">“The perfect story,” he breathes. “Poor girl. Rich boy. Together, forever.”</p><p class="p1">You’d make the choice to be with him every day from here on out. Which is why you’re waiting for the perfect time to tell him that you’d called up Changmin on the phone the other day, gotten a grand slam of a deal on that land he pointed out. He’ll be so surprised, you can’t wait.</p><p class="p1">Mark’s hand holds yours, and he echoes it to you, “Thanks, bee.”</p><p class="p1">Twin souls, ’til the end.</p><p class="p1">“Sooooooo,” you drag out the o, before you launch right into the good old days, “living room sleepover? I’m assuming your parents will take my room.”</p><p class="p1">“Hell fucking yeah,” Mark fist pumps with complete excitement, glad to get the sappy shit over and get back to business annoying you, “I’ll get the blankets.”</p><p class="p1">“I hope you don’t mind that I work on something while we watch.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t. But I hope you’re ready for all the shit I’m going to give you for whatever you’re sewing Jae.”</p><p class="p1">You blush fiercely, despite the dusk. How did he know? “Shut up.”</p><p class="p1">“Make me,” he taunts.</p><p class="p1">In rapid succession, he ululates at the top of his lungs and goes running into your house like a hooligan, waving his arms with abandon. You laugh with such affection for him, and then you follow him back inside. As he picks out yet another Transformers movie — somehow three more films have come out in the time since you’ve watched the first one —you gather up the materials your mother hasn’t utilized in all the sewing she’s been doing recently.</p><p class="p1">Yes, it’s true, you’ve spent a whole month without a single lick of artistic inspiration to begin sewing again. It’s certainly not the longest hiatus you’ve taken, nor the saddest, but it’s been the one you’ve been most eager to overcome. Thinking of Mark in this way, the land, the sturdy trees in your yard, the beautiful flower your mother never thought would blossom, you think you’ve found the perfect idea to quench the drought. You don’t have to worry that you physically won’t be able to do it, because your hand has been cooperative in the months since Jaehyun last kissed it, confirming your theory that that’s the only healing salve you’d ever need. There is no dread in your mind, no hesitation, no what-if holding you back. It makes sense, what you’re about to do.</p><p class="p1">You thread a loop of golden thread into a needle, the same color thread that Jaehyun’s worn around his ring finger this whole time, the same color of the ring that you wear now, and you start to sew. And because this happens every time you sew something exceedingly important to you, you proceed to sew all night. You stay bent over your work until the credits are rolling and Mark is fast asleep with a tiny grin on his face. You cover him with your favorite old quilt and hope that his brother is visiting him on that hill. Even then, you press on until the clock on the oven ticks past three thirty, and ticks again far past that, signaling the first glimpse of the morning sun streaming in through your windows.</p><p class="p1">When you’re finished, you tuck it deep into the recesses of your purse - ready to lie in wait until you’re handed the opportune moment to give your most precious gift away.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>tbc (for the final time!)</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>can you believe that we have only one chapter left. im not okay people!</p><p>wanna know some behind the scenes info? i teared up a lot while writing this story, but the only time i ever full on cried was during that retirement ceremony scene. when i read it back for the first set of edits i legit BAWLED. i hope u enjoyed. thank u for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. myrtus communis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He is your true love, it’s only ever been him. And what do you do once you’ve found your true love?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>kina grannis &amp; imaginary future - i will spend my whole life loving you (www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dVhZuyltII)</p><p>listen and weep.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <b>BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.</b>
</p><p class="p1">“What the hell?”</p><p class="p1">You look up from your second corn dog <em>(hey, don’t judge the choice of brunch food)</em> at the absolutely egregious honking noise. You strain to look out the window and your father’s truck isn’t in its spot at the end of the dirt path. You swear you haven’t heard your parents get out of bed yet, even though it’s nearly noon. The honk had been too close and too loud to be the truck anyways, so you get up from the table with a lazy groan.</p><p class="p1">You open the door a crack, which ends with you throwing the door open totally wide because there’s a <em>limousine </em>in your driveway. Mark’s stuck out through the sunroof like a very hilarious little flower as he waves to you. The limo is shocking, yes, but you’re more surprised to see him in a button down and his eagle tie, with his hair back to the usual blonde and currently tied up in a roller.</p><p class="p1">As you come down the porch steps, he saunters out of the vehicle and slaps the trunk like he’s showing the thing off. “Pretty slick, huh? The flags are.. just… chef’s kiss, bee.”</p><p class="p1">You stand on your tiptoes to see the flags strung up on the front antennas of what you’re realizing is an official government limo that he’s somehow commandeered. You feel the same rush of pride seeing them in person that you had when Michael had sent the approved pictures over earlier in the week - the real-life version of the flag you’d sketched for him.</p><p class="p1">It’s the perfect blend of the old Neozone and Elyxion. The black of the previous Neozone flag a backdrop to the shining gold threads that are sewn into the Elyxion tree of life, hexagon removed, the original icon the Growl Conflict symbol had been inspired by. At the ends of each of the branches are the lifelike details of flower buds, the cherished symbol of Neozone. Only your families know that they have sewn the outline of tulips, lilacs, and stellaria as the representative flowers, at Michael’s request that his children be honored by the flag going forward.</p><p class="p1">“I haven’t lost my touch yet,” you brag, always feeling appreciative of his support of you. But you don’t care about the flag at this moment, you’re more confused by everything else, “Why the limo, though, bumble? And the…. dye job and hair roller in your bangs?”</p><p class="p1">He beckons you forth with a conspiratorial grin, “Big gossip, you want it?”He shakes his head at his own dumb question and quickly amends, “Of course you want it, I don’t know why I asked. John and Wendy are eloping today.”</p><p class="p1">“Shut the fuck up,” you exclaim, “no way!”</p><p class="p1">Mark nods, his own eyes lighting up with excitement. “Literally got the text this morning, hence the surprise everything, even bleached my hair on the way over.” He shows you a picture of the venue they’ve picked out, one of the cutest spots in your old home, “They’re having it on the river, right in that famous little cottage. Small group, maybe us and a few of their friends, John’s mom and her parents.” His eyes dart to the top of his screen and he begins to get flustered, “We’re running out of time, though, I think they wanted to start at three.” It takes three hours to get to Neozone from here, two and a half if you really pump the gas, and you can see it’s already ticked past noon on the clock.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Yes, let’s go,” you acquiesce quickly. You’re about to get into the car when you realize you’re in your Bats sweatpants, and you don’t have anything fancy for a wedding, even if it is an elopement. “Wait, shit, I don’t have any of my dresses here except for that peach one. That might not be right for this.”</p><p class="p1">“Stopped at home, you’re good to go.” Mark opens the trunk to pull out a garment bag that he’s stowed away inside, surely the gold gown that you used for all the uber fancy occasions. He’s saved you so much effort by thinking ahead, you’ll make sure to buy him some beers when you inevitably end up at Cherry’s tonight.</p><p class="p1">You run back up the porch to do one more thing before you go, which is to both grab your purse and holler in through the entryway, “Mom, Dad! I’m leaving for the day—, Mom?! Dad?!”</p><p class="p1">That’s odd. They’re really not ones to be sleeping in like this, but ever since they’d reaffirmed their vows, you’ve let them be as lovey as they want. If lazing in bed with each other and sleeping in is what they want to do, you’ll let them. And you’d definitely noticed Mark had not asked you to invite them, meaning this really was going to be a small thing.</p><p class="p1">You choke in wonder when you get inside the limousine for the first time, entranced by the champagne and the buttons and the entire couch of chairs you can lounge across. You take it all in, never used to luxury, then say to Mark, “I’ll text them on the road.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t worry, I think John said they were going to have a big party when Wendy’s schedule gets manageable after her boards. They'll definitely be invited to that,” Mark confirms that you hadn’t needed to try harder to figure out where your parents were.</p><p class="p1">You chat a little bit more about how he’d had to dye his hair over the plastic bucket tossed in the corner, and even put some of your hair up in the extra rollers he has. But once Mark has gotten a glass or two of champagne into you, you end up dozing off as you’re prone to whenever you take the long drive to Neozone. It’s an easy and placid sleep, no nightmares, no explicit daydreams. It's just the sensation of the grass on your feet and the wind in your hair, a bright ball of sun gracing its gaze upon you. </p><p class="p1">You wake up to the perfect view, turning onto the little cobblestone path leading straight to the picturesque cottage by the river. You’ve never been inside, but this is about as storied as it gets for wedding locations in the city. It’s quaint and rustic, with an old waterwheel that is churned into motion by the small offshoot of the blue water that it rests on. Wendy’s family really must be rich if they were able to snag a spot here for an elopement. You know brides used to get into actual fist fights trying to get on the <em>wait list. </em>You’ve taken a turn in the wedding fantasy once or twice, but you’d never seriously considered this spot as a potential venue because it was that unobtainable.</p><p class="p1">You’d always thought you and Jaehyun would get married at home, as somehow your intended plans never seemed to work. Just getting actually married to him again would be enough. It’s going to be sad that he won’t be here today. If Mark found out mere hours ago about John’s nuptials, there’s no way they could’ve gotten him on a plane from Korea in time. You’ll FaceTime Jae during the ceremony, or something, because there's no way you do this without each other.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t believe they’re getting married,” you marvel, already spotting the soft bundles of white flowers draping the entrance’s stairs, “our friend group’s first wedding…”</p><p class="p1">“Third wedding,” Mark corrects as you get out of the limo together and head to the trunk to pull out your dress bag. He’ll never get over the fact that you, Yuta, and Jaehyun all got married before him, probably won’t even when you’re eighty and grey.</p><p class="p1">“First actual wedding,” you amend in a haughty return, before you give him a jab of your own, “literally only waiting for you.”</p><p class="p1">Normally, he’d explode in a fierce retort, ready to get the argument going - to prod you for women you know or jokingly blame you for dumping him for Jaehyun. But you just get a slam of the limo trunk, and a hushed, “Pssh, whatever,” before Mark bolts for the door of the cottage.</p><p class="p1">His bizarre behavior is the first clue. But you get a rip-roaring, lights blazing Vegas billboard of a hint in his haste to get away from you. From the back view, you can see that his ears have already gone as salmon as the rose arrangement visible through the open entrance. Oh, sweet, sweet justice. Though he’s taller than you, he’s no match for your determination to catch up to him, to poke him in the side so he flinches quite violently, and then accusing him, “You’re hiding something. You’re literally hiding something, your ears are as pink as your old hair! Who is she.”</p><p class="p1">“Who is who?” Mark feigns innocence, but he only gets this special hue of cotton candy pink when he is wildly embarrassed.</p><p class="p1">“Mark, I know you,” you remind him, before you give him one last opportunity to admit it himself, “who is the girl?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t want to jinx it okay,” he bursts out, “it’s only been two dates!” followed by his hand smacking over his mouth in shock when he realizes what he’s done. You freeze at the top step of the cottage, halfway in the door, both of your eyes round orbs as you stare at each other. You weren’t expecting him to admit to it.</p><p class="p1">You have been best friends since you were teens, you’re on the wrong side of being a twenty something now, and not once - lest you repeat, not <em>once - </em>have you ever had someone to bother Mark about. And it’s not like he’s some unblossomed innocent boy, either, you’ve heard about quite a few legendary dalliances when you were at Neozone U. You know it’s incredibly, incredibly cliché to think a thought like this, but if he’s finally mentioned a woman - whether it be accidental or planned - she must be the rare wunderkind that has made his heart tick in a way he can’t move past. He wouldn’t have risked getting you involved otherwise. After all, it was the same for you <em>(albeit on a much, much more extended timeline). </em>You didn’t tell Mark about Jaehyun until you were undeniably sure.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my goddddddddddddd,” you trill in excitement, before punching him right on the swell of his arm and chirping, “fucking finally!” You put on your best puppy dog, disgusting tone of a whine and beg him, “Please tell me, please, please, please.”</p><p class="p1">Now Mark’s entire face is that shade of pink, not just his ears, and he’s really fighting hard to keep the giddy smile from appearing on his mouth. He’s not fooling anyone, least of all you, with the way he’s itching at his flushed neck. “I’ll tell you if you hurry! We only have like twenty minutes left.”</p><p class="p1">He’s not going to tell you, you know, but you have all of the reception tonight to absolutely crush him under the weight of your teasing. You’ll let him off easy right now because you don’t want to work him up right before John’s wedding. Mark maneuvers you a different way from the women’s restroom, into a closed off, abandoned side room that he’d dropped his stuff in before coming to get you. As he rushes about to get his newly-blonde hair arranged in the perfect coif from his hair roll, you take a moment to sink down into a chair and contemplate the gravity of the event that’s approaching.</p><p class="p1">John is getting married. Johnny Suh is getting <em>married. </em>That’s unreal, you aren’t even sure how you all made it to this point.</p><p class="p1">“Should I go see Wendy?” you blabber on in excitement as it really hits you. You’re here for your best friend’s wedding, an actual wedding, a day that’s going to be so, so happy. “Does she need something, she must be freaking out, my gosh, this is crazy.”</p><p class="p1">Mark rolls his eyes at your sudden, over the top burst of enthusiasm. He forcefully points at the open seat next to him in front of the mirror, ordering, “No, sit here and get ready! You look like you just rolled out of bed!”</p><p class="p1">Because you did, you were in your sweatpants eating a corndog only hours ago. “Ha ha,” you deadpan, “fuck you.”</p><p class="p1">Mark gives you a grand display of his middle finger, you return the favor, and then set to work with the makeup bag he also somehow had the intuition to grab. Attuned to the fact that you have a lot to do and very little time left to do it in, he makes himself useful. He takes the errant rollers out of your hair like he’d done to his own and arranges your hair into an actual neatly arranged tumble of curls. How about that. You'll file away that one for later, ask him if he does this with his <em>girlfriend's</em> hair.</p><p class="p1">You take this for once quiet, companionable, silent time to think up each additional question you’re going to pelt him with. The first layer of matching foundation brings about the obvious one, <em>W</em><em>hat’s her name and how did you meet? </em>A stroke of your sharp black eyeliner, comely and brisk, induces a few more, <em>What did you do together, where is this going? </em>And the pink blush, which matches the unfaded hue of his own cheeks, brings about the last, and perhaps most important question, <em>Would you want another flower seed for this woman?</em>You hope you already know the answer to the last question, because Mark is the one person most deserving of having his true love confirmed.</p><p class="p1">The emotions of the day are already getting to you. In your reflection, you catch your eyes watering and rush to dab at them secretively before he notices or your makeup runs. In doing this, you realize you skipped a step in your process. You nudge Mark in the side to catch his attention and ask, “What dress did you pick out so I know how to match my eyeshadow?”</p><p class="p1">He groans out loud as he goes over to the dress bag and unzips the topmost part so you can get a glimpse of what’s inside. What’s inside is a color you’re not expecting at all.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t wear white to John’s wedding!”</p><p class="p1">“Hurry up, we’re late already!” Mark complains at the top of his lungs, in overwhelming exasperation. But you’re grumbling under your breath, rummaging through your pallets to find a neutral shade to use - <em>is he purposefully being an idiot?</em> When he sees that you’re still dawdling along, he throws his hands up in frustration and growls, “I’m going to have to go tell John to hold the ceremony until you get your shit together!”</p><p class="p1">He dramatically leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. You’re so taken aback by this turn of events you sit on the chair in silence for a minute trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. There’s no reason for him to be so fired up about it, it’s not like you were the one who picked out a white dress on purpose.</p><p class="p1">“Mark! Mark Lee!” you holler as you snap out of it and rush to the door, throwing it open and finding the accompanying hallway totally devoid of human life.</p><p class="p1"><em>What the hell? </em>you mutter to yourself as you slowly close the door and head back to the chair, still confused. Your feet change direction before you can sit, over to the hook on the wall where the peek of ivory is still shining through the unzipped bag. Seriously, what the hell kind of dress had he picked up from your closet that was white? Your college graduation dress? You thought you’d given that one to the thrift st—, “Oh my god.”</p><p class="p1">Your fingers have moved the zipper down just one more inch. But that’s enough to reveal one corner of white tulle, embroidered with a delicately exquisite light pink tulip.</p><p class="p1">That’s what this was, a dress?</p><p class="p1">You’re almost afraid to open up the garment bag entirely. You’re thinking of all those nights you’d sit with a needle and thread and force yourself to keep going on the next flower. The way you'd wait for the encouragement from your mother to take hold of your hands, focusing you in on how normal the act felt. Thinking of how, when each flower made its handsome appearance upon the fabric, you’d felt slightly less alone in the world. You know exactly what you sewed on this white tulle.</p><p class="p1">With a now trembling, fluttering, twitterpated hand, you grasp the zipper, and pull.</p><p class="p1">Your mother, it has to have been your mother who completed the gown, has done what can only be described as a work of pure magic. It’s a sleeveless slip of loveliness, gathered into a sweetheart neckline and disappearing into what looks like enough tulle to fill out a full train. And all over it, in the passed down legacy of your family’s perfect, tiny stitches, are the beautiful flower fields of the city you call home.</p><p class="p1">The blue hyacinths - for Yuta, the boy who never wavered in his loyalty and support for you - are neatly lined in a halo around the hem of the dress. In an artful mix with the spots of sapphire, that then float up the length of the skirt and the train, are the pink-purple hibiscuses - for John, the boy who provides you with your own personal inferno of care. The spot you’d seen first, the peeks of familiarity that dance up and down the straps and the neckline, are the blushed pink tulips that filled the mansion - for Mark, your flowerless soulmate. The pink alternates in steady reassurance with the pattern of a white flower you hadn’t been able to pick out before. But you know exactly what they are now. White lilacs - for Jeno, your little brother.</p><p class="p1">And right where the fabric gathers in an elegantly ruched bustle in the center of your chest, are a thousand tiny, bright gold honeysuckle blooms. For your true love.</p><p class="p1">You have to put it on. You don’t give a single damn what time your phone has on display right now, you can’t not put your mother’s dress on.</p><p class="p1">You have to ascend to the apex of an incredibly arduous climb first, but you’re no longer afraid. As your limbs fill with fortuitous warmth, cast your way by the garment in the corner, you stand to face yourself in the mirror. You slip off your sneakers and reach for the hem of your Bats sweater, then you brace yourself to see the horrid tableau of your unadorned body for the first time. After the matching sweatpants go, you stare at your bare form in the mirror and see the amalgamation of scars that have built up on your skin over the years.</p><p class="p1">A long line on your forearm from a failed attempt at skateboarding, a peach blossom on your thigh from an incident with a jean button. A comet by your temple, from where you’d gotten knocked out on the train.A spider’s web of criss crosses on your right hand, too many scars to make out individually on your left.A mangled mass of angry, red and white skin visible by your right shoulder that disappears into your back. And in the center of it all, protruding downwards like a sword in defense of your heart, is the long, thin, straight scar that had stitched you together after you’d been torn apart.</p><p class="p1">The way your skin has stretched to heal, the spindles of encouragement brought together as one, is not unlike the way the Tree of Life stretches out its branches to the sun. You are quite content with the damage that’s been done. All it is the physical manifestation of how much you’d cared for the others who’d cared for you. You don’t linger over the sight, nor do you feel any distress about it. You appreciate your body for the work that it’s done, and you move on. After all, there’s something way more important you want to be doing right now.</p><p class="p1">With all the care in the world, like you’re holding the most precious newborn baby, you slip the sleeves of the buttery tulle off the hanger and cradle the gown in your arms. You place it before you and step into the skirt, thread your arms through the sleeves, and reach behind to awkwardly fumble the zipper into place. There will come a time when your mother will help you zip it up, will perhaps shed a tear while doing so, you’re just indulging in your own selfish greediness to get this sneak peek.</p><p class="p1">It’s well worth it, because you are the garden of Eden come back to life in one woman, flowers brilliantly lifelike as they dance to and fro across the garment. You spin in place and you can practically smell the fragrances looming in the air, like you’ve just rolled down the hill that you live on. It’s already the perfect dress from the front, but when you’re in the middle of your second spin, you catch what puts it over the top. The back is exposed, just as you’d hoped to be strong enough to wear one day. But your mother, in her eternal care for you, has stitched the sheerest covering for your marred expanse of skin. The fabric is dotted in the protective blues and oranges of the bluebell and the zinnia, bolstered by the contrasting harmony of yellow and black tulips. A sign that all four of your parents have always got you.</p><p class="p1">You’d thought that wearing the peach dress was a special kind of unforgettable, but this blows that straight out of the universe. Because it feels exactly like being wrapped up in the warmest, kindest hug.</p><p class="p1">“Mark, open up! I can’t find my tie, do you have an extra—,”</p><p class="p1">There’s no time to answer, let alone turn to reach for the handle, because the door’s already opening with someone’s blustering query for your friend. That catapults off a cliff when they see you, and you them.</p><p class="p1">“Jae?”</p><p class="p1">In each of Jaehyun’s surprise reappearances in your life, you’d previously needed to take a moment, to do something like blink hard and confirm he was actually there in front of you. You don’t do that now, because you want to remember this vision even if it is a delusional daydream. He’s the epitome of careless, oxymoronic perfection right now as he gapes at you - black hair parted and neatly slicked back, alabaster skin lustrous even in the shoddy light, handsome face sparkling with realization, all funnily contrasted with the white button down under his black suit jacket, resting crooked on his frame. Halfway finished so the breadth of his chest is still fully exposed, the buttons that are done up are all in the wrong holes, and it hangs lopsided over his torso.</p><p class="p1">“Y-y/n?” he stutters, looking around the tiny room, totally lost. “Isn’t this where the groomsmen are getting ready?”</p><p class="p1">“What are you doing here?” you ask out of instinct, fully dumbfounded yourself.</p><p class="p1">“This is John’s wedding, of course I had to come.”</p><p class="p1">“Johnny’s wedding, right, I didn’t just make that up?” you ask, to get necessary confirmation you’re not crazy. Jaehyun nods, confused as to why you’re asking again when he literally just said so. He even takes out his phone to show you the email Mark sent him with his plane ticket, subject line <em>The End of Mr. Suh’s Glory Days.</em> You glance down at the skirt of your dress, which is still the same white it’s been the whole time, then you glance back up at him hoping he’ll have another answer, “Why did Mark bring me this? You’re dudes but you do know a girl can’t wear white to another girl’s wedding?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun looks you up and down once, then nods his head haltingly like he hadn’t registered your current apparel, nor the implications of what showing up in it would do. “Yeah, you can’t wear that,” he agrees. His gaze then goes straight to your heart of hearts, to the more refined twins of the tenderhearted honeysuckle he’d sewn himself. His voice and expression go all dreamy at the same time, “Did you make it?”</p><p class="p1">“My mom,” you breathe out, knowing he’ll recall the exact conversation you’d had about this. “Mark brought it here by accident.”</p><p class="p1">“You are just…” he sighs, contented and infatuated and just the cutest of cute, “something else, honey bun. You look beautiful.”</p><p class="p1">Suddenly so, so bashful, you tuck your chin into your shoulder and murmur in return, “You are so handsome.”</p><p class="p1">He really is, even with the crooked shirt, but you’ll indulge yourself for a second. Pretend that you’re a wife once again <em>(you’ve never really felt like you weren’t), </em> who has nothing more to do than to button up her silly husband’s shirts for him. He’s only an arm’s length away, you don’t even have to take a full step in this small room before your fingers brush against the buttons. There’s enough space between the jacket and his body now that you see a familiar peek of cotton in the hidden breast pocket.</p><p class="p1">He’s kept the photo with him this whole time.</p><p class="p1">This discovery transforms the moment, has you too shy to look in his eyes, so you focus in on undoing his shoddy first attempt. But when the final button in the row is separated, in your effort not to gawk once again at his toned torso, you ironically catch sight of the strip of puckered skin that lies underneath.</p><p class="p1">It hits you, that you and Jaehyun have twin scars now. You used to hold so much unspoken jealousy in regards to this. Before, he was lucky enough to escape the tangible hardships, to have his pretty body remain unscathed while yours was razed into the dust. You’d uncovered, shadow by shadow, the unseen scars that were dented into his soul, and hoped those were going to be it. It’s tragically unfortunate that he’d ended up having to have one on physical display - the same sword of life-giving salvation that extends from his heart, his pretty heart that he had only wanted to show off for you. You don’t know if he’s made his peace with it like you have, but he’s here and you can ask him about it later. You have that luxury now.</p><p class="p1">You start with the bottom button, and do up one more, and you’re right at the bottommost point of his scar. You press your fingers to your mouth, smooth them over the ridge of ruined skin for one heartbeat, and then you continue buttoning, respectful to not call attention to it any more than that. He’d been that respectful to you the first time he’d seen your back. Halfway up the column of pearl clasps, you feel him rest his forehead against yours, and your eyelids flutter closed, hands skilled enough to finish the rest of the buttons unassisted.</p><p class="p1">You pull back sluggishly now that your task is complete, and your noses catch as you straighten your head, then open your eyes to finally look at him. Your gaze meets the familiar glow of his golden eyes and there’s no hesitation at all, Jaehyun just kisses you before you have enough time to process his overwhelming proximity. It’s hotly affectionate, the way his mouth is in a haste to capture yours and never be parted from it again, arms slipping to carefully hold you over the sheer tulle across your back. The air between you shudders with a lovelorn ferocity as you meld your lips onto his, a well-fitted seam that’s been sewn together.  Your hands mess up the neatness of his hair, punctuated by the dip of affection you give the crest of his upper lip, before another harsh breath wisps out from him as he allows his heart to be permeated by yours. </p><p class="p1">You kiss him once more, and then on the apple of his cheek because you love it so much, and you have to stop for second to control yourself. You smooth his bangs back into place as you ask quietly, “Where’s your tie?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun grasps your left palm, to bring it to his mouth and kiss that as well, and he sighs, “I thought I had it, but I guess I didn’t pack one.”</p><p class="p1">Silly. He really is so silly. You shift your fingers so you’re holding his hand now, and you direct him towards the door, “Let’s go find Mark, tell him that we need to hold for maybe like fifteen minutes. Our house is right there, I can just go and grab a different dress, plus a tie for you.” You know exactly what you’re going to get, the gold dress from his birthday party and the identical plain gold tie he has, the first time you’ll be able to match in this perfect, corny way.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun rolls his eyes at his best friend’s antics, and he laces his fingers through yours completely as he leads you through the door. “He’s an idiot. Come on, then," he gripes. But before you even step out into the hallway, he lowers his voice to murmur, “I missed you.”</p><p class="p1">You smile at him, and kiss his mouth again because well, why not? “I missed you, too.”</p><p class="p1">Hand-in-hand, you and Jaehyun run through the corridor of the cottage together, laughing at nothing, cackling harder when you nearly eat shit tripping over the long train of your dress. He forgoes holding your hand then to more practically help you lift your skirt, nearly crying in tripled laughter when he sees you don’t even have shoes on. It’s such a rush of heady delight you’re basically blacked out on the sensation, trusting him to lead you in pursuit of Mark.</p><p class="p1">You turn the corner, and you hear the fluttering notes of an organ trying to kill time. There’s two individuals talking closely by the flower-lined entrance to the ceremonial hall, and Jaehyun notices who it is first. He points it out before you can register their faces, “There’s Marco," but he tugs at your skirt to get your attention, “Who’s he talking to though? Is that one of Wendy’s friends?”</p><p class="p1">You can make out the freshly blonde tresses of your friend, that’s for certain. But you force yourself to squint hard to make out the face of the person that he’s talking to. It’s a woman, with her hair in a curled, lobbed off bob that sparks a hint of recognition in you. You deny Jaehyun’s theory, “No, because I feel like I’ve seen her before. Bumble!”</p><p class="p1">Mark jumps about three feet in the air at the sound of your sharp cry. But when he whirls around to find the source of the noise, you see him <em>pull his hand out of hers</em>.</p><p class="p1">You skid to a halt, nearly clotheslining Jaehyun to the floor with your abrupt stop. Literally everything that just happened to you - Jaehyun, the dress, his shirt, your kiss, everything - comes to a grinding halt when you see the face of the mystery woman. Mina Kang. As in Taeil Moon’s manager Mina Kang is here, at John’s wedding as Mark’s <em>date. </em>Her pretty face is lit up in complete shock to see you there, and Mark is as frozen as a guilty, guilty ice sculpture.</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun saw the hand holding too, his hung open jaw says it completely. Though he has no context behind it, you still slap him on the shoulder and exclaim, “This is her, oh my god—,”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, y/n!”</p><p class="p1">All four of you move in synchrony to watch Mina’s boss come out of the men’s restroom, red hair shiny from where he’s just taken time to use water and arrange it into a neat coif, not having a baseball cap to conceal it right now.</p><p class="p1">“Taeil?” you wonder out loud, “Hi?”  You thought Mina was here as Mark’s date. It’s the weekend, which means the man she works for doesn’t have to come along to her private schedules. Or had Mark invited them specifically to surprise Johnny, also one of the biggest Bats fans you know?</p><p class="p1">Taeil waves amicably before he fist bumps a befuddled Jaehyun, and darts over to tap you on the cheek like he had the first night you met. That does not prepare you for the bomb he drops, “So glad I could make it to officiate your wedding, kids! Congratulations!”</p><p class="p1">Sorry, what?</p><p class="p1">“Dude!” Mark exclaims, pointed wrath coming out with a raise of his eyebrows.</p><p class="p1">Taeil takes in your befuddled expression, next Mark’s displeased one, and instantly dissolves into frantic apologies, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you hadn’t told them yet, I thought that was the plan! So, so, sorry.” He flashes you a regretful grin you still don’t understand, and then he gently maneuvers Mark’s date away from him, “I’ll get ready for the ceremony so you have a moment, come on, Mina.”</p><p class="p1">They slip away and it’s almost like you’ve dreamed this flurry of activity. You still have no idea what the damn hell is going on! Neither does Jaehyun, apparently, because he tries to make sense of it out loud, “Mark, I’m so confused, what’s happening here? Didn’t you say on the phone that John and Wendy were getting married?”</p><p class="p1">“No, guys, no.” Mark reaches out his arms to hold both of you at once in a huddle, before he repeats, “This is your wedding.”</p><p class="p1">“I really don’t understand,” you babble, trying to make this make sense, “didn’t you say that John’s mom and grandpa and stuff were going to be here? Like, what? And how is Taeil even here?” You’re still fixated on the fact that Mark is dating Taeil Moon’s manager, who’s somehow here, who somehow thinks this is <em>your</em> wedding, not Johnny’s.</p><p class="p1">Mark turns to his left and wait… is that Yunho at the entryway to the reception room? “Open the doors,” Mark hisses. When the older man hesitates, his distinctive propriety a clue that it is your old acquaintance, he only orders him again, “Just open them!”</p><p class="p1">You’re so stuck on the reappearance of Michael’s old assistant that you don’t see what’s inside the doors once they peel apart, and nearly miss Jaehyun’s shocked, <em>Oh my god. </em>It’s only until his fingers close around yours, squeeze, and let go in disbelief, that you come to your senses once more. You glance up and right into the halo of light making its way through the large, stained glass window in the center of the space that awaits. The scene comes into beautiful clarity, like the finest spring rain washing away the dregs of a winter snow.</p><p class="p1">Your first line of vision is to the ceramic mug and crystal vase that are sitting proudly on the lace-draped tablecloth right at the end of the aisle. There is stellaria and honeysuckle everywhere in the room, across the ceiling in garlands, curved in an arch around the front of the room, laid upon the backs of the chairs that have been aligned into rows, twisted in Wendy’s hair, resting on Taeil’s suit jacket.</p><p class="p1">It’s all coming together in your mind. They were able to get this stunning venue - the emerald and amethyst panels of the stained glass shimmering an illusion of a rainbow over the view of the river in the distance - because Michael had the influence and fortune to slip you up on the waiting list. Mark hadn't been a buffoon in picking out the wrong color dress for you to wear, he'd intended for you to be gowned in ivory all along. Lining the silk aisle are branches and branches of flowered myrtle, for good luck and love in marriage. The scent itself beckons forth the memory of your first day in Neozone, how you’d never smelled something as gorgeous as the flowers from here.</p><p class="p1">Your mother looks up from where she’s pinning a boutonniere of your flowers onto John’s suit jacket, and she gives a joyous little wave not to you, but to Jaehyun. Your father is the one who waves at you, where he and Michael are standing right in the middle of the aisle. Jeongah is in the front row, snapping a picture of you and Mark together, and Ten is beside John on his left side at the front, purple hair shining in the sun.</p><p class="p1">The rest of them tumble into your sight. There's Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto right at the head of the room by Mark’s mom, Doyoung and Joy in the third row, Lucas and a girl you don’t recognize with Haechan. Winwin and his wife, plus their newborn baby boy, Jaehyun's old buddies from the policy office. Heechul and Felix and Yunho and every worker that you’d ever crossed paths with when you spent time in the mansion. In the corner next to Sunny - surreptitiously out of the spotlight, in a dress that draws no one’s attention and with a handkerchief already pressed to her eye - is Jaehyun’s mother. She’s unwilling to miss this, even with all the broken animosity present in their family. When she shoots her son the tiniest smile of a greeting, you swear his brow is not held so harshly afterwards.</p><p class="p1">There’s two portraits set to the side, lovingly embraced in a cloud of lilies. One, a picture you’d snapped of Seulgi and Yuta only moments after they’d signed their own marriage certificate. And the other, a snapshot of you, Jaehyun, and Jeno at his fifteenth birthday party, cake smeared over all three of your faces.</p><p class="p1">This is your wedding.</p><p class="p1">Mark steps in front of both of you, the softest of soft smiles pinned on his face. He quietly explains, “We’ve been plotting since we saw you in court. All of it planned by us, exactly the way you wanted it to be. Dyed my hair yesterday because you’d hate the pink in the photos, got your mom to give me the dress ahead of time.” He fidgets with his tie and the slight pink sheen of his cheeks returns as he admits, “The dates were dates, but it was mainly to plan Taeil’s schedule so he could make it to officiate. He leaves for Boston on Tuesday.”</p><p class="p1">That, really, that’d all been a joke, you thought. Something mushy and sappy you’d said to Jaehyun before parting in an effort to make him smile. You never thought anyone would actually do this for you. Again, you’d always assumed you’d get re-married in the Minister’s office or in your backyard.</p><p class="p1">You haven’t truly registered Jaehyun’s reaction in all of this, you glance up at his face to see blank and consuming shock. He’s barely able to choke out his response to Mark’s reveal, “W-what? You did this all for us? Why? This must’ve taken so much.”</p><p class="p1">Mark gently grasps your hand, then takes Jaehyun’s, and he places them together when he says, “You’re my best friend, and you’re my sister. How could I not?” No wonder they’re best friends. Both of them are cut from the same unbelievably sweet cloth. The poignant moment is severed completely in two when Mark smacks both of you lightly upside the head then roars, “So come on, am I getting a fuckin’ brother-in-law or what, dude?”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun turns to you, mischievous smirk now at the ready, and asks, “Is he?” He wants you to say yes, to run right into his arms and squeal and agree. But you can’t marry him just yet. There’s something missing.</p><p class="p1">“Give me one second,” you instruct him, before you lift your skirts and turn, calling, “I’ll be right back.”</p><p class="p1">In a return to the night you’d confessed your love for each other the first time, you go flying back to the room Mark had hidden you away in, as a part of the plan to keep you from your own wedding ceremony being prepared. You catch yourself in the mirror for only a second, your highly flushed cheeks the picturesque image of a blushing bride. You let out one squeal in the privacy of the room, celebrating with yourself that this is actually happening. You don’t want to waste time beyond that - you dive for your purse, straight to the bottom without any necessary digging, and pull out what you’re looking for.</p><p class="p1">By the time you get back to the doors of the ceremony, Mark has gone to stand up front next to Johnny, eagle and bat ties in line as they should be. Everyone is trying hard not to eavesdrop on the pair of you who are left behind. They’re treated to the absolutely stupid grin spreading across Jaehyun’s face as he watches you walk towards him, hiding that item tucked behind your skirt.</p><p class="p1">Your tender hand takes his as soon as you’re standing before him. You deposit a liquid ribbon of ivory silk into it, quietly explaining so no one can hear, “You asked me for something, and of course I never forgot it.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun glances down in pure curiosity, and his stunned reaction is instantaneous, a part of his pretty pink lips and a breath filled with sick affection, “This. T-this is.” He peers at you through his trembling eyelashes, and he sighs in wonder, “No, you didn’t.”</p><p class="p1">As his fingers trace over the first swoop of cerulean partway down the fabric, you lose yourself in the heavenly devotion of the moment. Then, you explain your heart, “First, that’s the river, lined in an endless field of tulips and hibiscus. A dove in the wind, to remember the precious ones that we’ve lost.” Together, your hands pass in reverence by the serene grey bird, wings unfurled as it soars into the distance. You take the tie from him, limbs feeling like they're slogging through sweet honey, and begin to loop the silk around his neck, dreamy voice narrating the rest, “That’s my house on our hill, the sweet-smelling grass filled with stellaria.” When you do the first knot by his collar, your index finger takes a dip to the first taupe square at the apex of an emerald hill, kissed with a thousand different sparks of a familiar white. Finally, it meanders over to the matching square, bloom of gold set right in the middle, “And there is your house, honeysuckle in the window, because I am not complete without you.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun has all of his lofty attention heaped on you as he quakes under your hold, milliseconds away from his face cracking into the most joyous smile this nation’s ever seen. You take the silk one last time, fit it to the sturdy breadth of his neck, and you murmur, “As promised, a tie for our wedding. Sewn in the image of our family.”</p><p class="p1">You didn’t know you were getting married today, yet you still sewed Jaehyun a tie that matched your dress. This is the final iteration of the needlepoint you’d made for his birthday, of the frame he’d sewed for your bet. This is the new beginning he had asked for.</p><p class="p1">He reaches for you, ensnares you in his arms in a hug that conveys all of the shivering depth of your feeling, the healed wounds of your separation, the expanse of the time you’ve loved each other. Jaehyun holds you, and though he doesn’t speak, you know exactly what he’s saying with the gesture, because you’ll have the same sentiment stitched upon your heart for eternity. <em>Thank you for everything. </em></p><p class="p1">When you break apart, Michael is waiting for you, not bothering to hide the fact that you can see the tear tracks down his face. Draped across his outstretched arms is an extraordinary length of gauzy tulle, dotted with tiny, individually sparkling diamonds, culminating together in a chicly classic comb lined with even more of the jewels.</p><p class="p1">You let out an involuntary gasp as he warmly explains, “This veil is a family heirloom. My grandmother wore it at her wedding, as did my mother, and my wife. Only feels right for my daughter to get it on her wedding day.”</p><p class="p1">You turn obediently, feeling your eyes burn with overwhelming gratitude. Michael is prudent to not ruin the work his son had done with your hair, holding your head softly as he tucks the comb in, surrounding you in this cloud of cherished luxury. You know it’s technically bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding, but you can’t care with how moved Jaehyun appears as he looks on, a crystalline diamond of a tear slipping past his eye. </p><p class="p1">One of your own cascades past your lid when you smell the simple scent of your flower from home. You turn back around to see that from his jacket pocket, Michael has pulled out both a fresh sprig of your stellaria-honeysuckle blend, and a hairpin with a diamond lilac pendant on the very end. With great tenderness, he pulls back a lock of your hair, and pins the blooms right behind your ear, as you have worn them since the beginning. In his other hand is yet another burst of your white-gold buds, and a tie clip with the exact same diamond pendant at the end. Michael pins the flowers on Jaehyun’s jacket’s collar, and fastens the clip securely below the expanse of your embroidery, his sniff indicating he recognizes exactly what it is.</p><p class="p1">“These were from Jeno,” Michael exhales, “he says hi.”</p><p class="p1">Your fingers brush the flowers in your hair in return. <em>Hi, J. I hope you’re well. </em></p><p class="p1">“Thank you for everything, sir,” Jaehyun sighs. He’s entranced by the tie, the pin, the flowers, overcome by the sight of it all.</p><p class="p1">Michael claps him on the back, like a real father greeting his son right before his wedding, and jovially reminds him,“Ah, we’re real family now, Jae. Can’t use sir anymore, I think it’s finally time.”</p><p class="p1">It’s time, it’s time. It’s finally time.</p><p class="p1">Shocked into action so fast you can only giggle in entertainment, Jaehyun grabs your face, kisses you sloppily on the cheek, and practically whoops, “See you real quick, honey bun!” He runs backwards, literally runs, into the venue, unwilling to not look at you for even a moment. He waves and shouts, “I’m so excited!” Johnny whoops in return, and so does Mark, and soon all of your friends on the inside are cheering like it’s the final out of a championship Bats game. You think your cheek might burst apart from the sheer giddiness of it all, right on that place where he kissed you.</p><p class="p1">Michael gazes at you with fatherly pride, affection draped right into his features. He can’t resist pulling you into one last, indulgent hug. “I’ll take you halfway there, and your parents have got the rest,” he whispers into your ear. “Congratulations, kiddo. I’m beyond happy for you.”</p><p class="p1">Jaehyun is your true love, it’s only ever been him. And what do you do once you’ve found your true love?</p><p class="p1">You place your hand in the crook of Michael’s arm, and smile to where your mother’s joined your father, waiting in the middle of the aisle for you. You laugh as Johnny flashes you a thumbs up from where he’s standing, and when you glance to his right and see that Mark is doing his best not to cry, you feel the well of gratitude pool into your eyes.</p><p class="p1">All of that is lost in the brilliant beam of Jaehyun’s smile as he waits, this last canyon of separation about to be closed forever. He’s gazing at you like you’re the very material that had been sewn together to form him, like no part of him can go uncompleted with you there.He is the beautiful summer sun, a golden ray of unadulterated sunshine, what your flower could not bloom without.</p><p class="p1">You smile back, happy, happier, happiest, and you go to marry him. This time, for forever.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong>-FIN.-</strong>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p> </p><p>wow. wow wow wow wow.</p><p>where do i even begin with this? i honestly thought about my goodbye for a long time and i'm still not really sure what to say in complete honesty, but here we go. in list form here because i could not fit it in the notes.</p><ol>
<li>THANK YOU. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. thank you is the only place i can start with. i could copy and paste this in a thousand times and it could never convey the depths of gratitude i hold in my heart. thank you to every single person that's crossed paths with this story - whether you opened it once and decided it wasn't it for you or peeked in from time to time or you were one of those readers who have been loyally following each chapter. thank you to the silent and shy ones (me when i read!), the people who have kudosed, the people who have commented, none of this would be possible without you. yes, i write because it's a hobby for me and because i like it, but ultimately these products are for you, the reader! i want to make you feel things (maybe even cry ;) ), to provide a distraction in these crazy times, to take you to another world for a short bit each week so we can take a break from this crazy life we're living! thank you for trusting me with that endeavor!<br/><br/>
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<li>but i would be loathe to say thank you without giving an extra special shoutout to my ride or dies. you know exactly who you are. those of you who took time to comment every week, with many of you writing mini essays of your own with your feedback, compliments, theories, and delight with plot developments. this made the experience of posting this fic 127127127127127x better than i could've ever imagined. i had such fun interacting with each and every one of you and you all played such a deep hand in how the storylines eventually developed and blossomed (lol). i feel like you all are my friends now and i welcome you along to any story i write in the future. to anyone who wants to get involved in this - just stop by and drop a comment! i reply to everyone and love hearing personal details, snippets about your reactions, whatever you want me to know! <strong>i do not have any public facing social media</strong>so this is the only place that i can interact with you guys! i may think about setting something up but if you want to talk with me, just come do it in my comments! i promise im friendly lol<br/><br/>
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<li>beyond that i just want to say a thank you to this community/platform in general. i write my stories as kpop fics mostly because i HATE writing original character descriptions, especially coming up with names and physical traits. i also don't have anywhere else to post and get legitimate critiques on something i've never been formally trained in. how accepting this place has been over the past nine months i've been posting has been very heartwarming<br/><br/>
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<li>okay wow, now that that is out of the way, i cannot believe this story is finally over. what started out with a short chapter snippet i was playing around with - the very first thing i wrote for this story was oc telling jh about the letter she wrote - ended up evolving into this 400k+ monstrosity. i have no idea how that even happened.  writing again was supposed to be a fun way to pass the time during quarantine and now look what it's become. i feel like i've grown so much as an author and as a world-builder, i never would've thought myself capable of something like this before (especially bc writing is nowhere CLOSE to what my irl job is, it's wild to me). so allow me to pat myself on the back for a second hahaha<br/><br/>
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<li>you know sometimes i struggle with the idea of using real people in stories (see #3 for the reason why i ultimately do this), but i personally feel as if these characters basically are originals and are ones i'm very satisfied with. more so than ever i enjoyed thinking up nuanced character directives, motivations, and ancestral storylines. i loved a lot of the subplots and really enjoyed stretching myself into giving everyone a well-rounded backstory and hefty personal sideplots to work through. in addition, the oc this go around i felt was particularly strong in her belief system and values, plus dealing with feelings of grief and struggle were a good challenge for me in my storytelling. what was a standout to me, too, were the families. michael is probably my most favorite og character i've ever thought up, and i feel like a lot of you might agree with me. <br/><br/>what i am MOST proud of though, was the world building. i had no idea when i started i was going to create a country with an entire historical background, long standing traditions, a government, political figures both old and new, religions, etc. i started with the flower tradition and then basically everything spiralled out of control. wtf was i thinking in attempting this lol. it took me eight word documents of text, plus two of edits and details to keep me straight. this whole story took me three and a half months to write and more to edit. crazy. if you have any questions about my thought process in building a character or building this world, please ask!<br/><br/>
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<li>establishing that i am crazy, i can't quite let go of this whole world yet. SO, i have two final gifts to give my readers. <br/><br/>the first - i have made a list of one (or two) deleted scenes from each chapter of the story. these were scenes that i cut for time, or that i wasn't feeling capable of writing in the moment, or from another character's perspective that would've ruined the surprise of a lot of storylines. i have put them into a poll i will link here. please vote for as many as you like but don’t go crazy haha. i am not going to guarantee i will write all of them, but i will definitely start with the most requested, and work through the rest as the inspiration strikes. if you are aching for a scene that didn't make it on here, please write it in, and i will consider it as well. these will be posted in a separate story. ignore the part that says comments bc i couldn't figure out how to get rid of it lol<br/><br/><a href="http://www.polljunkie.com/poll/kpezno/which-deleted-scenes-would-you-like-to-see">http://www.polljunkie.com/poll/kpezno/which-deleted-scenes-would-you-like-to-see</a><br/><br/>the second - to reward my readers who comment and have had a fun time interacting with this story, i'm going to do <strong>a small fic giveaway</strong>. if you comment on this final chapter, i'll assign numbers starting from the oldest comment and use a random number generator to pick one out. whoever's comment that is will get a short one-shot from me and i'll let you know in my reply if you've won. just reply to me back with the genre/plot/pairing/whatever you like. it could be something from this universe or something totally different (i don't do member/member stories or smut!) i'm sorry, but i can't count kudos because i will have nothing to reply to. you have until Jan 5th to get your comments in, so one week from me posting this final chapter, with some wiggle room bc im lazy. i hope this doesn't come off as a bribe LOL i just genuinely want to thank my readers and hope this is a fun way to do it :) <br/><br/>but remember to vote in the poll as well, because even if you don't win the giveaway you'll still have a chance to get your favorite deleted scenes written<br/><br/>
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<li>the final thing - because this is getting way too freaking long and i'm sure y'all just want to be done with me haha - the answer to the MOST asked question as of late. loseyoutoloveme, what's next for you? what is in the pipeline? do i need to prepare tissues anytime soon? are you not totally burned out from writing a story that's FOUR TIMES AS LONG AS THE HOBBIT (i had to google this. i was blown). well, the answer is: i'm back on my bullshit. the deleted scenes will come when the inspiration strikes, i will not have a set schedule for posting those. the giveaway fic will be posted within a month of the giveaway closing. i never intended stitch your heart to be the only fic i posted for six months, so im going to try and write some shorter (a struggle for me) one shots or drabble fics. maybe a requests only story if people would be interested. <br/><br/>but drumroll please - i have a story planned that's currently at six word documents of planning. that's a taking a bit of effort so i'm not sure when it will start getting posted, but it will. it is very different from this story, with no extensive world building or historical lore, but what i feel is still a very intriguing plot. i leave you all with a short preview snippet and my <strong>UTMOST, DEEP, TOTALLY CRAZY GRATITUDE AND LOVE FOR ALL OF YOU. SEE YOU WHEN I SEE YOU!!!!!!!!!!</strong>
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</ol><p class="p1"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">You sigh, deeply affected by the recollection even still, and add on, “But imagine fourteen year old me just sobbing, thinking that my dream was crushed forever.”</p>
  <p class="p1">The moment your mother realized what the meeting was for, to discuss your future career as a ballerina, she’d screamed to the point that Seulgi had to yell at her to stop making you cry. The memory dissolves into a tug of war, your mother's hand on yours and the teacher’s grip on the other. Your father’s reticent silence met with the promise that you’d be financially taken care of if money was the issue. The fact that your mother did not come to see the Nutcracker that winter, when you had your first solo role.</p>
  <p class="p1">He comes across deeply hurt, deeply, deeply so, like this is a grave personal offense that’s been struck against him. His mouth is pulled into a deep set frown that’s echoed into his angry tone, his fist curled upon his thigh, “I don’t understand how someone could do that to a child. Mom always paid for my piano lessons, no matter what.” He peers over to his keyboard set up in the corner, and you swear you catch a tear glitter in his eye when he breathes, “I started when I was three because my uncle had a piano in his basement, and she’s supported me ever since. You never got that?”</p>
  <p class="p1">“Not really.”</p>
</blockquote>
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